A Gift of the Heart
by SappyGemstone
Summary: "Russia beamed at me. I knew then. It shocked me, for I never thought this charming, cruel, child of a man was capable of it. My god! That is the look of love." Lithuania shares his memories of the love, brutality and madness witnessed in Russia's house.
1. Chapter 1

A Gift of the Heart

Characters from Hetalia: Russia; Lithuania (as narrator and main character); Latvia; Estonia; Ukraine; Belarus

Original Characters: Georgia; Chechnya; The "Stans": Uzbek, Turkmen, Tajik, Kirghiz, Kazakh; Azerbaijan; Armenia; Afghanistan; Moldova

My First Fan Fic! I got this idea from the comic in which Russia admits to Lithuania that he dreams of warmth and sunflowers. I thought, well! There are plenty of warm, sunflowery places Russia occupied at one time, so why not tell their story? I've added a new love interest for Russia with the OC Georgia, while also working with Lithuania as Russia's most favored lover and the narrator of this tale.

Just a few notes: I played with the history a bit, but mostly tried to coincide events in the story with actual events. Part of the Bloody Sunday scene is NOT MINE but translated from the original Bloody Sunday strip. Obviously, Russia and Lithuania as characters are not mine. I used country names because I think they sound nicer than the given names of the characters. I T'd for teen for violence and mentions of sexual relations (no actual sex scenes, though).

Finally, this story is now complete! Thank you to all those who have reviewed, and to those who review in the future. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Chapter 1

What can be said of Russia's demeanor that has not been witnessed by all in the world in these modern times? He is terrifying, to be sure. As of late his power has diminished as well as his ability to cast his long, fearful shadow over a less influential country like myself. Still, the effects of his madness lingers. Though beaten back, he is not defeated. And I am a witness of the effects of his psychosis on one whom he still pines for, besides myself: Georgia.

Ah, Georgia. The beauty of the Caucasus, Lady of the Black Sea. Her black curls cascade down her back, and shine in the sun. She holds her head high, a woman of culture and great thought, her knowledge and experience often forgotten by younger nations.

"I remember Rome," she once sighed to me as she gazed out her great windows at a Petersburg winter, needle poised above her embroidery. "He was a cheeky man, Lithuania. Cruel, yes, but honorable." She glanced at Russia across her parlor, his sizable nose stuck in a book of Pushkin's work. "Sometimes I see a glimmer of Rome in that great bulk. But the _joy_, Lithuania. Where is the joy?"

Russia looked up from his poetry and smiled at us, the bland smile of someone hiding death in his thoughts. I held my breath and looked away, trying not to shake in fear or anger. Georgia merely nodded and smiled back, winking at me.

"You cannot be afraid," she said in a low voice. "We may be captives, but we are still his guests. There is a reason that we are here, darling."

Georgia's captivity came about simply. Russia travelled south; craving the warmth denied him at home. He walked so far south that he ran into the Black sea. Never before had he encountered such pleasant waters, he being used to muddy rivers and the cold, stormy seas of the White and the Baltic. He stood at the shoreline, his eyes closed, letting the warm air flick his hair against his brow.

"Hello!" a light, cheerful voice called to him. He opened his eyes and looked across the beach. There was Georgia, waving and smiling, running with bare feet towards him, shoes in her hand, hair streaming behind her. His heart swelled upon seeing her, thumping against his chest, and he smiled and waved back.

Georgia stopped short in front of him, hand to her breast, breathing hard.

"Goodness, you are a tall one," she said, grinning up at him. "It's been quite a while since another like me has wandered into my boarders with no malicious intentions."

"Like you?" Russia said, cocking his head. "Malicious intentions?"

"No need to play the fool." Georgia shook her head. "Another country, sir. And I have been here long enough to know the difference between an invader and a scout. But how rude of me! You look as if you've been travelling some time now. Come!"

She took his arm and led the bewildered man to a small, white house on a hill above the beach. A lush garden surrounded the house, green against the whitewash. Most prominently, sunflowers jutted up from the greenery, their long stalks shaking in the sea breeze. Though humble in appearance on the outside, within the house the walls were covered in golden tapestry and intricate rugs. Multi-colored pillows were strewn about the floor and on gilded couches. Knickknacks and statuary covered every inch of the decorative tables against the walls and separating the couches. She sat Russia down and poured a glass of chacha (distilled wine) for him. He took a gulp, sputtered, then laughed.

"Why, this is almost as good as vodka," he said with a smile. "But so far it is the only thing here that has not surpassed my own home."

"And where would that home be?" Georgia said, pouring another glass for the great man.

"I am Russia, miss…"

"Georgia," she said, pushing a strand of hair from her eyes. "I am Georgia. And I am pleased to meet you, Russia."

She looked down at her feet.

"Really, it has been a long time since someone so pleasant has visited. Turkey has come to call, but he is very…demanding. Very frightening."

She looked up and returned Russia's smile.

"But I think I could enjoy the company who looks out at the sea with such happiness."

She held out a slender hand. Russia gazed at it a moment, then grasped it between his own thick fingers.

"You are lovely, Georgia, and so is your home," he said. "I would do anything to keep you safe."

Georgia's brow crinkled. She pulled gently to release her hand. Russia increased his grip. His smile widened.

"You will enjoy Petersburg," he said. "Perhaps not Moscow. Moscow is not nearly so cosmopolitan. And by the look of your home, you need more than Moscow can offer! But Petersburg, yes, I have a home there that you may –"

"I do not understand," Georgia said, still pulling at her hand, now frantic. "What do you mean by this?"

She stood up quickly, but Russia was with her, his grip still firm.

"I mean that a lovely person like you cannot help but be invaded by the crude and the wicked. I will protect you, Georgia. I will protect your warm seas and your green forests." He waved a hand toward a window that opened to the garden.

"I will protect your sunflowers, Georgia."

"Your protection is welcome," Georgia said, lifting her chin. She blinked away tears. "But I will not go with you."

Russia closed his eyes and smiled.

"You do not understand," he said, chuckling. "You do not have a choice."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It was Chechnya who brought about Georgia's capture. But how could she have known what she was doing at the time? The girl was half wild when Russia found her. A happy, care-free child who thought of little but horses and the feel of the wind against her face when galloping full tilt through the plains and hills. Her cropped black hair hidden away in a modest scarf, she laughed when she first met Russia.

"HALLOO, pale man! You are so very BIG!" she cried from the seat of her favorite stallion. She kicked her mount into a trot and circled Russia. "Like one of my horses! Why do you wear such funny clothes, big man?"

Russia look ran a hand over his blue and red jacket. His confused look melted into a congenial smile.

"Hello, young lady," he said, pulling a hand through his sandy hair. "I seem to be lost in your lovely hills. I am Russia."

"Russia? Oh, Russia! Yes, I know you," Chechnya dropped from her horse and beamed up at the great man. "Mongolia spoke highly of you when he was still around. He said you were not too bright and willing to pay for the privilege of surrendering!"

She laughed loudly, not noticing the red tinge that framed Russia's smile.

"Yes, well. You I am not so familiar with," Russia said, roughly rubbing Chechnya's head. She dipped away, annoyed, and adjusted her scarf.

"I'm Chechnya," she said with a huff. "You aren't very polite, are you?"

"Ah, Chechnya." Russia squatted down to the girl's level. "The rebel? I have heard of you, also from Mongolia. I've heard of your charm. But you are much prettier than he said. Like a bright spring day!"

Chechnya blushed and backed away, smiling at her feet.

"I wonder if you may help me," Russia said, standing to his full height. "I have heard rumors of a beautiful land just south of here, and the lady that resides there. Do you know of the land I am speaking?"

Chechnya gasped and looked up.

"You must mean Georgia!" she said with a toothy grin. "Oh, she is very lovely. She visits sometimes, but mostly she keeps to herself. Do you want to visit her?"

"Very much," Russia said.

"Well, then!" Chechnya lifted herself on to her mount and held a hand to Russia. "Let me lead the way!"

They travelled south, Russia holding on to Chechnya's thin form, his smile growing wider the further south they travelled.

"It is so very warm," he murmured, pulling at his now stifling scarf. "And so very bright. There is no General Winter here! No crazy sisters!"

The horse stopped abruptly at the foot of a jagged mountain range.

"There you go, Mr. Russia!" Chechnya said, pointing southwest. "Cross through these hills, and where you find the sea you will find Georgia."

"Thank you," Russia said, voice distant. "I thank you greatly."

He rummaged in his coat and pulled out a length of rope. Before Chechnya had time to respond, he whipped the rope around her wrists and tied them tightly to her waist.

"What? What are you doing?" she cried. He ignored her struggles, smiling as he knotted the rope. He slid from the horse, dragging Chechnya with him, and slapped the horse's rump. The horse reared and galloped away, more out of fear from Russia's touch than pain.

"My horse! Why my horse?" The tears streamed from Chechnya's eyes as she kicked at Russia's legs. Casually he stepped on Chechnya's foot, holding hers beneath his. She cried out, but he did not let her foot go.

"Be gentle, Chechnya," he said with a smile and raised brows. "I do not want to hurt you." He squeezed her foot beneath his boot. She gasped.

"Okay, yes!" She said, holding her body still. She glared up at him. "What do you want from me, you creature?"

Russia cocked his head, smiling, and let her foot go.

"Show me to Georgia," he said. "Show me to the beautiful lady. And then we can all go to my home, and be as one happy family, da?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The stately Georgia and the fiery Chechnya already resided in Russia's home when I was brought there, lashing out like a caged animal. My Baltic brothers Estonia and Latvia were there, too, but by that time they were already shivering and servile in Russia's shadow. Not I! I was a firebrand, angered by my separation from my dear Poland and disgusted by Russia's defeat of France, dashing my hopes of independence. He had to drag me to the carriage, push me forcefully through the doors. All this he did with good cheer, ignoring or oblivious to my anger. And so I came to his grand, cold, French-style palace, dressed in Russian garb and made to cater to Russia's every whim.

My only blessing was that, angry as I was, Russia took a shine to me. I was not quaking like Latvia or Estonia. I did not bully and beg like his sisters Ukraine and the beautiful Belarus. And I did not exasperate my unwanted master like Chechnya, who sulked in the corners and fled any room she occupied if he entered. Unfortunately, it was also my curse, for there was no hiding from his giant frame. He'd seek me out in that great house, keep close to me as I made my daily rounds and eventually designated me as his main manservant. He worked hard to make us inseparable, and there was little I could do but humor him.

"Lithuania, I wish to show you great beauty," he'd say as he waved his hand over the dark paintings his people produced.

"Lithuania, have you ever heard such music?" he'd sigh, smiling at the minor key of his latest favorite composer.

"Lithuania, look and see this master of words!" he'd cry, shoving a book of Gogol's tales in my face and leaning over my shoulder. I jumped away at that one, turning and tossing the book back him, my face scrunched in anger.

"I cannot read your blocky lettering, remember?" I sneered.

"Oh." Russia unbent his frame, eyes looking up and thoughtful. "Well this is no good. How can you enjoy the masters? What of Pushkin? You must read Pushkin. Very well," he smiled down at me. "You will learn Russian, da? And to help you, I will get rid of all the pesky books here that are printed in Lithuanian. You will learn quickly then!"

"Wha? No, that's…that's not…you can't…" I sputtered. Russia clasped me on a shoulder, his smile rosy.

"Yes, I can, my friend," he said. "You will learn Russian."

He handed me the book and walked off down the hallway, humming to himself. I clenched my fists and stormed into a nearby parlor.

"That great oaf!" I cried, throwing the book to the floor. "That stupid child!"

Georgia looked up from watching the fire and smiled with sad eyes.

This was Georgia's parlor, a gift from Russia when she first arrived at the palace.

"I do not want you to work," he said, ushering her into the airy room, sunlight brightening every corner. "Work is for the little, shaking men. I only wish to bask in your light and be in your company."

Four windows filled one wall from ceiling to floor, glass paneling framed with iron. Two enormous Turkish rugs hung on the adjacent walls, scenes of golden animals frolicking in greenery woven into the fabric. A large marble fireplace took up the center of one wall, its heat enveloping the room and chasing away the chill of even the coldest winter day. A black baby grand piano took up one corner, a large bookcase another. Small, hair-stuffed couches covered in large, soft pillows were placed at odd intervals throughout the room. Along the floor plush rugs of a deep green were thrown about, giving the impression of threaded grasses.

"You will be happy here," Russia said, hope in his voice, clasping Georgia's small olive hands in his meaty palms. "You will be sunny and happy, and you will share your sunlight with me."

Now Georgia rose from her seat, ruffling her stiff French gown, and padded over to me.

"Oh, Lithuania," she murmured, picking up my book and handing it back to me. "This is not the way to win the fight. Will you be like Chechnya, hiding behind doors and beating at Russia's knees only for him to give you a swift kick and a night in the gulag?"

"I can't help it," I said, flinging up my arms. "What can one do with that man! And to be his favorite, what a chore! I'd rather be sweeping halls like Latvia, or cooking like Estonia." I fell into a chair. Georgia sat with me, folding her hands on her lap.

"It is difficult to be loved by Russia, this is true," she said with a wry grin. "But believe me. It is even more difficult to be out of his favor."

"I don't see what you mean," I said, tossing the book on a nearby table. "How can I move if I'm never out of his sight? How can I breathe?"

Georgia shook her head.

"You are younger than I, Lithuania," she said, leaning back in her couch. "And you have known freedom for much of your lifetime. I was once like you in my youth, brash and angry. But I learned over time to take pleasure in the little things." She brushed a hand over a cushion, picking at its threads with two thin fingers. "Being protected, and being favored, these are not little things."

"Ha!" Chechnya appeared from the shadows of the parlor. Her clothes were worse for wear, as if her body refused to accept the Russian skirts she was forced to wear. Her scarf was bound tightly to her head, emphasizing her moon face. Black half-circles sat beneath her eyes, and I could believe that she had not slept since the day Russia chased away her horse. "Georgia, you may be beautiful, but you are weak and stupid."

Georgia raised her chin. Her brows furrowed, and her eyes looked on Chechnya with pity.

"You say such mean things," she said, reaching an arm out to Chechnya. "Yet you hide in my parlor. Please, sit by me and rest. You fight so hard, and what has it cost you?"

Chechnya folded her arms.

"It has cost me blood and pain, but at least I still have my honor," she said, narrowing her eyes at Georgia. "You grovel to Russia! 'Russia, have you heard this tale before? Russia, let me make you some dumplings! Read to me, Russia!' You are pathetic."

Georgia's eyes widened, and her nostril's flared.

"I do not grovel," she said to the girl, her teeth clenched. "I humor him. He is not such a bad sort when he's in a good mood, you know. And so it is my prerogative to keep him happy. Though of course you wouldn't know that by your mad dashing about, your little helpless revolutions." She looked to the fire. "I mean to survive my time with him. You are foolish if you keep fighting someone as pragmatically cruel as Russia."

"No. I am not so willing to sell my soul," Chechnya said, shaking her head. She looked at me and tapped her foot. "What will you do, Lithuania? Will you cower like her in her lovely gilt cage, or will you come with me?"

She turned and flounced out of the parlor. I glanced at Georgia, who did not turn back from the flames.

"I…am sorry, Lady," I said, standing and following Chechnya's retreat. Georgia said nothing, gazing into the depths of the fire.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I defied Russia's demands. I followed both Georgia and Chechnya's examples, blending them into something that worked for me for quite a long time. In his presence, I learned Russian and I read from Russian books. This he happily acknowledged, cornering me for long literary discussions and asking me to read aloud in the bright warmth of Georgia's parlor.

But in the few moments I had alone, in the dark of the night or when he was away, I smuggled in my Lithuanian literature and grammar books. I studied voraciously in my cozy room, keeping the candle lit at my oak desk for hours. Half of course from the thrill of partaking in the forbidden fruit, half because of my deep fear of losing something as essential to my identity as my language. If I was too long from the books and too proficient at the poetry I read for Russia's amusement, I was nervous. I hid my panic behind bright smiles, waiting for my next free moment. When Russia released me from his gaze, I studied feverishly until once again the words of my language slipped easily over my tongue.

It was in my panic that I disappointed Russia to my detriment. One day I was brushing down Russia's suits, mentally practicing my language by ticking off the words for the tools and the things I spied in his room.

_Brush, yes, I know brush,_ I thought as I hummed to myself. _Window. Hmm. Chair. Carpet, bed, table. Button. Button? Button…_

I stared in horror at the intricate metal fastener, unable to come up with the word in Lithuanian.

_My god, I can't remember!_ I cried voicelessly. My body was rigid. _Calm down, just a momentary lapse, right? But…but what if it's more? What if this is the beginning of the end?_

"Lithuania, why so glum?" A heavy hand landed on my shoulder. I jumped, then smiled up at Russia's grinning face.

"Nothing at all, sir," I said, shrugging off his hand. "All done here, ahah."

I hung his suit in his wardrobe, bowed to him and scurried off to my room, not glancing back.

I looked down either end of the long hallway outside my room and closed the door behind me, careful not to let it click. I pulled a trunk from beneath my bed, opened it, and lifted the top layer of clothes, exposing the Lithuanian writing beneath. I grabbed a random book and flipped through its pages, searching frantically.

"Ha!" I cried, finger on my savior page. "Button! Button!"

The door burst open.

"Lithuania, you left with such a look on your face that I wondered if you were feeling –" Russia stopped. He stared down at me, and I, my face shocked into marble, stared up at him. With a smile, with eyes calm, with cheeks flaring red, he slammed the tray in his hands on my desk. The teapot rattled, the cup lifted and dropped, cracking its saucer.

"What do you have here?" he said, wrenching the book from my grasp. He flipped through it, closed it gently, then swung at me with the spine of the book. The book smashed into my right temple, and I fell against my bed, holding my head and seeing stars. He tossed the book into the trunk, leaning over it, tsking.

"Such a find," he said. He turned to me and kicked me square in the stomach. I doubled over, heaving, as he crouched down and patted me on the face. "I wish I had not found this in your room, Lithuania. But perhaps this is my fault. Perhaps I was not clear enough in my orders."

He grabbed me by the shirt and lifted me, leaving my feet dangling, and slammed me into the wall. He smiled and closed his eyes.

"Do not worry. I will make things crystal clear." He let go of my shirt and let me slip down the wall before grabbing me by the arm and yanking me out of the room.

"I'm sorry sir, really I am," I pleaded as he dragged me down the hallway, down the spiral staircase, through the kitchens and down to the dank basements. "It was a momentary lapse in judgment. I assure you, it will not happen again. Please, sir, I never meant to insult you, I had no desire to – please, Oh god, I was a fool to defy – please!"

Russia pulled open a door to one of the many musty prison rooms that lined his basement halls. I could hear calls and cries echoing in the distance. He threw me into the room. My shoulder crunched against the cold stone floor.

"You are right, my dear friend Lithuania," he said, taking a whip from a hook on the wall. He brushed my back with its tendrils. His smile was small and sad. "I know you will never disobey me again."

He lifted the whip and let it crack against my back.

* * *

><p>I lay shivering on the cold stone floor, body aching, head throbbing. I could not remember the last time I had seen the sun. My mouth was parched and my stomach empty, though my pain was too great to think of eating.<p>

"Lithuania," a hushed voice whispered on the other end of the door. "Lithuania, are you there?"

I groaned in reply.

"Oh, Lithuania! It's me, Chechnya. Thank goodness I found you. Georgia was very adamant that I find you as quickly as possible." A hinged flap at the bottom of the door lifted, and a bowl of water slipped through. I lifted myself on shaky arms and pulled the bowl towards me, dropping my head down to lap the cool water from the bowl. "She said to forgive her for not being here herself, but Russia's been darkening her door a lot more since your punishment."

I heard what you did." Chechnya's whisper was filled with pride. "What a sneaky little man you are. To think you've been hiding away all those books for so long! I didn't think you had it in you."

"What." My voice cracked. I coughed. "What happened to the books?"

"Oh." Her whisper dipped low. "Russia had them burned. He made all of us watch."

I curled up on the stone and covered my leaking eyes.

"But Georgia, you should have seen her! 'Oh, Mr. Russia, what an odd writing system. Do you mind if I keep this one book for my amusement?' I think the bully knew what she was on about, but still, he let her have it! 'Never let me see it. I don't want to mar that pretty face' he said!"

I covered my mouth to stifle a high pitched giggle.

"Oh, but Lithuania, the things we can do!" Chechnya whispered quickly. "We can get you more books. And perhaps you can join me! With two people knocking that great lout about, perhaps we can cripple him, or at lease –"

"No." The word fell from my lips before I could think it. I was stunned, and so was Chechnya. She paused. "No. I cannot, Chechnya." I pulled at my bloodied shirt, removing it from where it dug into the open sores on my back. "I…am not as stubborn as you. This is too much. I…"

I stopped and lay there, mouth hanging open. Chechnya did not speak for a moment.

"You are a coward, Lithuania," she finally said, spitting the words at the door. "You are a coward, like your Baltic brothers! A sellout like Georgia! Fine then, tremble in fear of the lout! I will have none of it!"

She ran off down the hallway, the sound of her footsteps merging with that of the cries of the tortured.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I do not know when Russia came to me. But I felt him lift me from the floor, carrying me gently up the stairs as a father carries his sleeping child. Delirious, I felt him strip me of my ruined clothes and bathe my wounds. I heard him hum a folk tune as he wrapped me in my blankets and lay me in my bed.

"Thank you," I whispered, brushing his arm before falling into a deep sleep.

When I awoke, the pain in my body was gone. I rubbed my eyes, spying a new uniform spread out on my desk chair with a book of Russian short stories lying on top. I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, ripping the blankets from my body.

"That…that…" I stood, but my knees shook me so hard that I had to sit down. I looked over my naked body. The pain was gone, but deep purple bruises and yellowing scars covered me, reminding me of the prison. I shuddered.

"So. This is what it must be," I murmured, picking up the book and flipping through the pages. I closed it at set it on my desk. "Humor him. Survive. Very well."

I dressed myself, my hands shaking as I buttoned my jacket, and left my room. No one looked at me as I passed them by. Latvia purposely looked away when he accidently caught my eye. Estonia removed his glasses as if he was cleaning them. I scowled at both of them, and continued to Georgia's parlor.

I found Georgia within, laughing at an animated Russia. Ukraine sat next to her, clapping her hands gleefully. Belarus was there as well, sulking and shooting Georgia and Ukraine hateful looks.

"And then, boosh! Moscow was up in flames!" Russia cried, his face joyful. "But was it France and his trollish Napoleon that started the fires? Of course not! It was Russia! Me, lighting the wood houses so that the French could have nothing!"

He laughed merrily, and then spied me in the doorway.

"Ah, Lithuania," he said, grinning and slapping me on the back. I cringed and gulped back a scream. "I was just telling Georgia of when I last kicked France's butt. Funny, da?"

"Yes, funny," I warbled.

He pulled me to the couch and sat me down next to Belarus.

"Anyway, we are good friends again, France and me," he continued, beaming at Georgia. "Very good friends! Do you want to see what he showed me?"

He held out a hand to Georgia, smiling at her. Georgia hesitated a minute, her eyes clouding over. She reached out her hand, but it didn't quite make it to Russia's. Russia closed the distance, pulling Georgia from her couch and to the center of the room. He gestured at the piano.

"Ukraine, can you play a tune? Something with, da dum dum, da dum dum, da dum dum…"

Ukraine nodded, slipping onto the piano stool. Soon a Russian waltz issued from the instrument, slow, sad, and in minor key. Russia led Georgia through the steps until both of them glided across the floor. Russia beamed at Georgia as they danced, humming along with the music. Georgia's smiling face was glassy at first, but soon the smile deepened and reached her eyes.

"You are quite good," she murmured, gazing up at him, her eyes soft. Russia's eyebrows lifted and his smile left his lips for a moment and became an 'o' of surprise. Then the grin popped back and something else was there besides his affable brutality. Something in his eyes that could not quite handle Georgia's honest praise.

I squinted my eyes, trying to puzzle out that look, when I was distracted by a sudden pain. Belarus had caught my hand and was squeezing it in hers.

"I heard that you hurt Big Brother's feelings," she said to me in low tones. "I know Big Brother likes you very much. TOO much. But if you do anything to Big Brother again, I promise I will hurt you back."

I looked at her, and she stared at me, her face a mask of anger. But it was as if I was seeing her for the first time. Her long, platinum hair, her violet eyes. Unlike her brother, she wore her malice like a frock, showing it off for all to see. My stomach dipped.

"I will never hurt him again," I said, squeezing her hand back. "I promise, for your sake, I will never hurt him again."

She crinkled her nose and frowned, then shook me off.

The music ended. Russia glided to a stop, smiling at Georgia, giving her a quick twirl before setting her back on the couch. Her hand lingered on his before she let him go, looking down at her lap. Ukraine clapped wildly and laughed.

"Oh Little Brother, that was good!" she said, running to him and throwing her arms around him. Belarus stood and clenched her fists. Russia laughed and pushed Ukraine away gently.

"Yes, very good! You think, Georgia?"

Georgia did not look up. She simply nodded. Russia's face fell a bit, his smile drooping. It snapped back and he looked at me.

"And you, Lithuania?"

I smiled back and nodded.

"Oh, yes, very good."

He beamed at me, the look he had before when gazing down at Georgia once again returning to his eyes. I kept the smile on my face, my thoughts turning over what the look could be when memories swam to the surface: Poland and I working in our fields. Poland and I playing chess together. The same look crossing Poland's face as we laughed over dinner. And then it struck me, shocking me, for I never thought this great, cruel, child of a man was capable of it.

_My god! That is the look of love._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Yes, I trembled. I trembled in the shadow of Russia, joining my quaking Baltic brothers. Though now I knew it was just as much anger as fear, and somehow Latvia and Estonia caught on to my epiphany. They were more willing to chat as we walked down the hall to separate duties, or sit by me at dinner time. We did not have much in common, but the trembling brought us together and we shared common grievances about living in Russia's house.

But something strange happened after my punishment that no one suspected: Russia was _happy_. Of course, it is hard to tell what emotions are behind that kind smile. But there he was, humming tunes as he walked down the hallway, patting Latvia on the head gently if he did a good job with the chores, striking up a back and forth with Estonia over dinner, laughing as he joined in conversations with Ukraine and Georgia. He even managed to have polite words to Belarus, though he avoided her as much as possible.

And there was the _dancing_. Since that day in Georgia's parlor, Russia insisted on household dances. We'd gather in the old ballroom dressed in court styles, a string quartet in the corner. The first time, the household was awkward. The music played, and we stood there glancing at each other while Russia pulled people to the dance floor laughing and crying "Dance! Dance!" Because we trembled, we danced. At first we could only manage pompous waltzes, and we'd trade partners as the music changed. My heart fluttered every time I danced with beautiful Belarus, and I tried to catch her eye as we turned on the floor. But her dancing was clumsy, and she concentrated so hard on the steps that a frown perpetually hung on her lips.

Russia was by far the best dancer, perhaps proving the rule that large men are light on their feet, though Georgia and surprisingly Estonia were close behind in skill. When waltzing with Estonia, he had no trouble being the lead or the follower, chattering away the whole time about food and chores and how many times Latvia had to be reminded of this or that. Latvia was the very worst, stepping on toes and mumbling apologies.

By the fifth dance, Ukraine stomped her foot and demanded something besides the somber waltz. Russia clapped his hands and waved at the quartet. A kalinka began, slow at first, then gaining in speed. I stumbled along, but soon caught on to the taps, the dips, the lifts, the circling. Belarus was now in her element, laughing as her Big Brother lifted her and twirled her around. She came down the line, and I trembled when it was my turn to lift her. I smiled at her, but her face was once again twisted into a bland frown.

The dancing continued, and as we danced, we drank, and the conversation grew louder and more heated. Dark murmurs underneath the cheerful folk music, hidden looks and sneers at Russia. Estonia, drunk on too much vodka, popped out on the dance floor and began to recite the Kalevipoeg (banned Estonian epic poem). The music stuttered to a stop. We all stared at him, glancing nervously at each other. Estonia continued for a few lines then stopped, brows scrunched in drunken confusion, then raising in terror. Russia, smile wide and cheeks pale, walked over to him, took him by the hand and circled a finger over his head.

"Dance!" he said, and the music struck up again as he led Estonia across the floor, lightly lifting and twirling the tipsy man. And so we danced, and at the end, exhausted, stumbled off to our bedrooms mostly in good cheer.

In this season of Russia's joy, the gloom lifted from the palace. Old wrongs were forgotten, and a sense of peace and contentment settled over the household. And it was then, oh, then, that I let my weakness prevail. Russia's affections no longer annoyed or frightened me. Though Belarus still sat at the top of my desires (next to helpless pining for what once was with Poland), Russia became more desirable. His doting was difficult to shun. Little gifts of baked goods and wine and books of poetry, sitting next to him in Georgia's parlor as we listened to Latvia sing in his high tenor, and now and then that look of love I had seen before. How could I, so lonely without Poland and unable to connect with Belarus, deny him for long? After the first time I made my way back to my room in the light of the early morning, I understood what Georgia meant about keeping Russia happy. His joy was my joy, and if he was willing to share it with me, who was I to reject it?

There was only one who had no peace in Russia's house. One morning as I padded down the hallway, yawning, Chechnya slid from the shadows and kicked me in the shin. I stifled a cry, not wanting to alarm the sleeping household.

"Why did you do that?" I whispered, rubbing my injured leg.

"So. You have become like Georgia," she said, shaking her head and crossing her arms. "Or not quite like Georgia. Georgia is pragmatic. I understand why she shares the lout's bed. You, however." She snorted and leaned against a wall. "I wouldn't doubt it if you were actually falling in love with the great idiot."

I stiffened and frowned, standing with clenched jaw.

"That's absurd," I said, passing her. "How can one love someone so childish? And what's so bad about enjoying myself a little? No use being angry and fearful all the time."

Chechnya latched on to my arm. I looked down at her, the fiery girl whose carefree manner was now replaced with a deep hate. She did not look at me as she held my sleeve.

"You are not like the others," she muttered. "You cannot let go of people so easily. Be careful, Lithuania."

She let me go, and scurried off down the hall.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Chechnya's dark demeanor hung over the household, dampening our peace. Meeting me in the hallway sparked something within her, and sulking and random shin kicks blossomed into full assaults on Russia. Oh, how smart she was. She waited until he was sniffling, or until a headache came on and he moped around the kitchen looking for anything to help with the pain. All he had to do was walk into the wrong doorway and sloosh! He was covered in water or warm millet. He'd shake in anger, gritting his teeth, murmuring "kolkolkol" as he searched every nook and cranny for his assaulter. And always, he dragged her out by her scarf. And always, she fought and kicked and spit. And always, he threw her in the basement prison for longer and longer intervals, hoping to break her. And always, she came out glowering and more defiant.

Russia's smile never left his face, but the joy was deflating like a balloon with a pinhole. Yet again we were uneasy, and the trembling returned in full force.

"Your shoes are muddy," he said calmly to Latvia, slapping his face. "Do not be so muddy."

"You have forgotten the flavor," he said to Estonia over his cutlets, smiling. "You are bland, so the food is bland, da?"

"Go. Leave," he said to me one night, turning over in his bed. "What use to me are you? What have I gained from you?"

His distance grew more pronounced. There were times in Georgia's parlor that he stood up and left the room without a word, whether in the middle of a conversation or once while reading aloud. He wandered off in the night, pacing the grand palace and staring out the windows.

"What troubles you, sir?" Georgia asked one day in her sunny parlor when he did not speak for an hour. She laid a hand upon his. He shook himself and smiled down on her.

"Something is different," he said. His voice seemed to come from somewhere far away. "Something has changed." He covered his hand in hers. "I do not like this change."

He stood, letting her hand slip from his, and headed for the door.

"Wait!" she called, following him in her shuffling skirts. "Be careful. I know Chechnya's been lurking around my door."

Russia cocked his head at her and smiled, his eyes deep and distant. He grabbed her by the arm and shoved her through the door. A bucket of whitewash poured over Georgia, covering her glistening hair and her ruffled gown before landing on her head with a clang. She stood in the doorway wiping paint from her eyes and gasping.

"Ah, Chechnya," Russia said with a smile, his cheeks blooming. "She will never give up, will she?"

"You – you - how COULD you?" Georgia sputtered, whipping her arms to spray off excess paint. "Look at what you've done, you great – you horrible – you BULLY!"

Russia's stance changed, confusion screwing up his face.

"I don't understand," he said. "It was Chechnya –"

"Who pushed me through the door, Russia?" Georgia stomped her foot. "Who is covered in paint? You take and you take, but you never give! Never, even something as small as the right to dignity! THIS, Russia! This is why you have to steal friends from their homes, for who would come to you willingly?"

She gasped and covered her mouth, eyes wide. Russia lost all his distance, present in the moment, his mouth hanging open. He…frowned.

"That makes no sense," he said, furrowing his brow. "What do you mean by this?"

"Nothing," she whispered, looking down. "Nothing. I simply spoke out of anger. I wasn't thinking –"

"No." Russia pulled her through the door, ignoring the paint, and pushed her against the wall, leaving great white streaks on the rug. "What do you mean by this, Georgia? What do you mean, I have no friends? What do you mean, no one likes me? Ukraine!" he called his eyes never leaving Georgia.

"Yes, Big Brother!" The woman chirped from her couch, wringing her hands.

"Do you like me?"

"Of course, Big Brother!"

"Lithuania!"

"Oh! Yes, sir?" my voice cracked.

"Are you my friend, Lithuania?"

"Y-yes, sir," I stammered. "Of course."

"There, you see, Georgia?" he said, crushing her hand in his. "I have friends. People like me. So why do you say such things, Georgia?"

She did not answer. Two cloudy streaks streamed from her eyes, and her lip trembled as she stared up at him. He looked at her hand, growing purple from lack of blood, and let it go.

"Why do you say such things, Georgia?" he said, his voice soft, a small smile playing on his lips. "I love you."

Georgia blinked, shook her head a little as if to clear away what she heard.

"I do," Russia said. "You are –"

"Stop," she whispered. "I cannot."

He leaned over her, the look softening his eyes.

"But you are –"

"Stop!" she cried. She slapped him, leaving a white print on his cheek. He stumbled back, stunned. "I love you, too!" she said, sobs erupting from her chest. "But that I could love such a man is a travesty!"

She picked up her skirts and bolted from the parlor, leaving a streak of white in her wake.

"But you are…green things…and sunlight," Russia said, holding his cheek. His eyes narrowed, though his smile never wavered. "I must find Chechnya," he murmured. "Ukraine, come with me. We shall seek her out. Latvia! Lithuania! Clean this up. For the Lady."

He stalked off. Ukraine followed behind, biting her lip and wringing her hands.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Russia did not look long for Chechnya. The focus in his eyes died away, Ukraine said, and soon he was wandering the halls, holding his head, once again distant. He went into his room, saying nothing, closed the door and locked it behind him.

For days I was the only one permitted in the room. Not for anything pleasurable, mind you, just to carry out my typical duties and to bring him meals. I never saw him eat, though the tray was always empty when I came for it. He barely spoke to me besides giving me the odd smile and quick thanks. He sat by the window, staring out at palace grounds covered in a thick blanket of snow. Sometimes the sun would shine, and he'd close his eyes and bask in its warmth. Sometimes the snow would fall, and his eyes would go blank as he leaned his head against the window. Always that smile was on his lips.

One day as I was preparing Russia's breakfast tray, Latvia ran into the kitchen, knocking into me.

"Ow! Be more careful!" I said, rubbing my hip.

"Sorry, sorry," Latvia leaned over my tray and straightened the rattled dished. "Lithuania, there's a crowd outside!"

"What do you mean a crowd," I grumbled, helping him with the tray.

"A crowd of people! Of Russians!" Latvia's eyes were wide, his speech quick. "I saw them start gathering when I was sweeping the snow off the pathways! They're standing at the gates, chanting about a petition and Russia's boss and, and state corruption, and…"

He petered out. Estonia turned from his pots on the stove, staring at Latvia in horror. The three of us exchanged nervous glances.

"Right, then. Nothing to do but continue with our duties," I said firmly, picking up the tray. But I shook as I carried it to Russia's room.

Russia was standing at the window, hands behind his back, scanning the crowd of chanting men. He looked at me when I came in and sat the tray down.

"Do you see this, Lithuania?" he said, placing a hand on the glass. "My people are angry. Yet again, they are angry."

"Oh?" I kept my face bored as I glanced out the window. "Ah. Well, nothing you haven't seen before, right sir?"

"No, this is different," Russia murmured, looking out the window. "I can…tell. This unhappiness. It is not just the boss this time. It is…more."

He looked at me.

"Please, find the boss. He must know, da? I wish to know what I must do. For the people."

I nodded calmly and left his room, closing the door behind me with a small click. I bolted down the hallway, opening and closing doors, frantically trying to find the royal family. Rounding a corner, I stumbled into Chechnya leaning against a wall.

"Russia is starting to crack around the edges," she said with a smile. "Listen to the chants and the cries! Someday there will be no Russia, and he would have been brought down by his own people!"

She laughed, a wicked grin on her face.

"I don't have time for you," I said, shoving her away. Her laughter continued, following me down the hallway. I searched, but no door turned up my quarry. Finally, I opened a door and a hand grabbed me and pulled me inside. It was Georgia. She pushed me against a wall, hand over my mouth, and nodded towards the interior. At a small wooden table in the middle of an ornate but chilly room sat the tsar and his wife, drinking tea and ignoring the audible shouts drifting through the closed window. A guard stood by his side, whispering something in his ear. The tsar waved the guard away.

"Nonsense. We are Russia," he said. "And if we are Russia, who stands at the gates outside?"

Georgia pulled me from the room and closed the door behind me.

"This is not good," she said, voice low. "I have seen this happen before in my lifetime, and it is never good. You must go back to him. Keep him calm for godsake or this will end badly. Go!"

I nodded and ran back to Russia's apartments. I caught my breath, straightened my jacket, smiled and entered.

Russia still stared out the window. His breakfast was untouched. The crowd had grown during my search.

"It is becoming rather serious," Russia said, not looking up at me. His face was blank. My smile wavered.

"Ah. Sir, it appears that his highness is having his tea," I said, still standing by the door. A small silence stood between us.

"I see," Russia said finally.

I walked to the tray, busying myself with pouring his now cold tea.

"I'm sure they'll clear out by tomorrow," I said. "They always do, you –"

"Why does it always end up like this?" Russia whispered. "I have worked so hard. Why do they always end up hating me?" He leaned his head against the window, his fists clenched and pressed against the glass. Tears welled in his eyes. "Everyone says it is my fault. My fault! So many centuries I have endured it…why? Why does no one get along with each other?"

I looked down at the tray, handling the cold toast, unable to answer. A blast of cold air hit my body like a wave of water. I looked up. Russia had opened the window, swinging it out on its hinges. He reached for a rifle leaning against his chair.

"Lithuania," he said, wiping away his tears with a smile.

"Mr. –Mr. Russia?" I stammered.

"We do not want children who cannot get along, da?"

He lifted the rifle, laid the butt against his chest, aimed, and fired. The shouts outside became cries of fear and anguish. Russia fired again, and again. My mouth and eyes were wide. I backed away from the crazed man. He paused for a moment, smiling at me, his eyes too bright, too glassy, then turned back to the window and fired again. I stumbled into the door, scrambled for the doorknob, and left the room running.

All the household was running towards Russia's apartments. They stopped me, held me, slapped my cheeks, fed me tea.

"What is going on? – We heard the gunshots and came – Are we under attack? – Lithuania, you are so very pale –"

"R-r-r-russia!" I finally gulped out. "He is firing! _On his own people._"

Gasps and cries. All let me go but Georgia and backed away. Latvia bit his hand. Estonia's mouth was agape. Ukraine covered her mouth, tears falling from her eyes. Even the beautiful Belarus's brows were furrowed.

"But, but that's impossible!" Estonia cried. "How can a country rise up against its own people? It's …it's –"

"It's unnatural," Latvia finished. Belarus sneered at him and smacked him over the head.

"You will keep your mouth shut," she said.

"Quiet, all of you," Georgia said. "Lithuania, come."

She dragged me back to Russia's apartments. The room was frigid, ice forming on top of the forgotten tea. Russia still stood at the window, firing mechanically at the crowd. Groans of the dying, screams of the injured, cries of the angry and fearful did not faze him. He simply aimed, cocked and fired, again and again.

"Russia." Georgia let me go, and I followed her to the window, shaking. She placed a hand gently on the rifle. Russia looked down at her, smiling.

"Oh, hello Georgia," he said. "I have not seen you lately."

"No, you haven't," Georgia said, smiling. Outside the window, gunfire continued. "Do you wish to spend some time with me?"

Russia, smiling, furrowed his brows.

"I have not yet finished –"

"I believe it is close to finished," she said. She was right. The screams were fewer now, the groans silenced by a well-aimed shot from the palace soldiers.

"Ah." Russia lowered the rifle staring blankly at the bodies in the snow. His eyes cleared for a moment. He shuddered, backed away from the window and dropped the rifle on the floor. Quickly Georgia closed the window, nodding to me. I grabbed the rifle and tossed it under Russia's monstrous bed. Russia stared at his hands, sinking into his chair, smile gone.

"I – I did not want –"

"Of course not," Georgia said, taking a hand in hers, rubbing his fingers. She waved me over, grabbed my hand and placed it in Russia's. Russia closed his hands over ours and closed his eyes, bringing our hands to his lips. His eyes opened, glassy once more. He smiled and stood, pulling us from his room. The household scattered at Russia's appearance in the hall, Latvia and Estonia mumbling about chores, his sisters fleeing down the stairs.

"We will go to Georgia's parlor, da?" He said, cheerful and humming. "I have found the most amazing new writer. Andreyev! Very racy stuff!"

He laughed, pulling us close, an arm over each shoulder. I shared a worried glance with Georgia, opening my mouth to speak, but she shook her head slightly and what I had to say remained unspoken.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

For a time it seemed that normalcy returned to the palace. Russia remained cheerful, though his eyes never cleared. Even Chechnya avoided pushing him too far. But beneath the façade, in the household was a whisper of dread: a country that harms its people! A country that willingly attacks its own! It is one thing to be forced to watch a terrible boss rend the land with his insane clutch, unable to do more than look on and wait for better times. It is another to cast off your neutrality and pass judgment on those within your borders!

A line was crossed, and even Russia in his haze realized it. Sometimes his smile broke and a flash of horror washed over his face. Sometimes when looking out the window, he hummed an old, mournful tune. Once, tears came to his eyes as I read to him in bed.

"Are you okay, sir?" I said. He smiled, confused, as the tears brimmed over and slid down his cheeks.

"Yes, of course," he said. "Continue, please. This is a good part!"

"We have to say something!" I cried, pacing the floor of Georgia's parlor. We were alone, the household now uneasy to be in a place that Russia frequented. Russia was off on some diplomatic mission.

"What is there to say?" Georgia set her teacup on the table. "He has gone mad, Lithuania. Perhaps before in the good times, we could reach him. Now? It is out of our hands."

"This does not bode well." I slumped on the couch next to her. "What happens when a country is insane? I've never seen such a thing."

Georgia was quiet for a moment. She cocked her head at me.

"I am older than most think," she said quietly. "I have seen many countries come and go. I have seen them grow; I have seen them under subjugation and in their greatest glory. And…I have seen others go mad."

I narrowed my eyes at her.

"How old are you?" I asked.

"Well, not so old as China!" she said, chuckling. "But I told you once, I remember Rome. Not just at his height, when he could walk from one end of Europe to the other and still be at home. I remember him when he still scrapped with his brothers all over the Italian peninsula. Of course," she smiled. "I was just a child, then. But I watched as he grew. We all did, the lesser countries and I. I watched as he bent others to his will, cruel but cheerful and charming. And I watched as he, an old, sick man with wild eyes, opened the gates of Rome to Gaul. I hear he laughed as his people were slaughtered in the streets."

She sighed and shook her head.

"There is something about the conquering nation, Lithuania. There is never any peace within his borders. They can hold on for a while, but how can any remain sane with all that strife? And when madness comes, it is only a matter of time until the end."

"The end of Russia?" a dark thrill jolted me that was quickly swallowed by a hollow emptiness at the pit of my stomach. I doubled over, head in my hands. I gulped back a sob.

"Oh, god, she was right," I muttered. "Damn that Chechnya. How could I fall in love –"

"It was easier than you thought, yes?" Georgia flashed a wry smile. "I told you, he's not such a bad sort. And very loyal."

"Terribly loyal," I said, rubbing an old scar on my shoulder and shuddering. Georgia frowned and watched the fire.

"Yes," she said. "And…now he is mad."

* * *

><p>I never spoke to Russia about his madness. His diplomatic mission turned out to be a promise to war with Germany and his allies. He was rarely in the palace. When he did come home, he secreted away to his apartments, visiting no one. Meanwhile, the coffers of the palace shrunk. Our meals shrunk with it, and soon there was little to eat but bread and salted fish when we were lucky. Russia's boss still ate well, and Estonia often grumbled over his empty pots.<p>

"If the boss eats well, you know that Russia eats well," he muttered, slicing a loaf of bread extra thin so that it could be stretched out.

I ripped my slice to pieces to make it last longer.

"Actually, he has never asked for food when he comes home," I said. "If not for his great bulk, I'd think he never eats. Perhaps he eats with the soldiers out in the field?"

"I don't think so," Latvia said. He had gulped down his slice and was picking crumbs off his plate. "The soldiers don't have much at all. I heard from a gardener that some take the boots from the dead to make stew."

"Hmmm." Estonia shrugged. "Well, it couldn't hurt him to lose a few pounds anyway."

Outside the palace walls there was unrest. Everyone could feel it but the oblivious royals. Though it was hard to know exactly what the people felt without Russia there, a general uncomfortable atmosphere of frustration and hunger hung in the air. We would all huddle together in Georgia's parlor, the whole household, our stomachs warm if empty.

There we sat one day, the whole household silent and shivering, when Russia burst through the parlor door, his eyes shining.

"Can you feel? Do you know?" He said, pulling people up from the couches. "You must all come. Come!"

We followed, the whole household, as he led us to the front doors. He threw them open. A cool autumn wind whipped our faces. In the distance, a large mob marched toward the palace. There were shouts and chants. Russia laughed as the mob came closer, the sound of marching echoing over the river.

"These are my people!" he said. "These are my Russians!"

He ran to the gates after the palace guard. We watched from the stone steps as he pushed a man down attempting to close the main gate. The gate swung open as the mob reached it, and it swarmed around Russia, surged up the stairs, passed us. Great cacophony came from inside, shouts, screams, crashing, ripping. Fire. Fire leapt up walls and licked through smashed windows. Russia laughed and laughed as the palace burned. Tears ran down his cheeks. Suddenly he stopped, a surprised look on his face. He grabbed his chest and fell back into the gate. His sisters ran to him, along with Georgia and me, and between the four of us we helped him to the stone steps. He lay down and looked up at the stars.

"I see the great bear. Do you see?" he said, before passing out.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The palace was in shambles. Wallpaper and tapestries ripped from the walls, paintings cracked and burned, smoke stains etched on doorframes and seared into curtains. I stepped over debris, glass shards, pebbles that once were statuary, shaking my head. I climbed the stairs to join the others, but each returned with the same news: all destroyed, all looted, all burned.

"What a waste," I said.

"It's delightful!" Chechnya cackled. "All that's left of Imperial Russia."

She waved a hand towards the grand foyer. Russia sat in the middle of the shattered marble floor, gazing off at nothing.

"What do we do now?" Latvia whispered, rubbing his arms. "Winter will be here soon. Where will we go?"

"Home."

Russia's voice echoed across the empty, broken space. He turned his head and looked up at his household. And he smiled a small, tired smile.

"You will all go home. I cannot protect you. I cannot hold you here. You must go home and do what you will. Maybe someday…"

He stopped, shrugged, and turned back to looking at nothing.

Estonia and Latvia smiled at each other and at me. They left, giving Russia polite nods as they passed him. Ukraine took a step forward, but was stopped by Belarus.

"We cannot leave Big Brother now, sister." She said, pulling her into the shadows of the hallway. "We must wait and see what happens."

Chechnya laughed gleefully and skipped down the stairs. She gave Russia a single pat on the head on her way out. Russia grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"What are you doing?" she screamed, kicking at him and twisting in his grip. "You told us all to go home! Let me go!"

"Not you, Chechnya," Russia said, smiling blandly at her. "You have been trouble for a long time. I do not like trouble. I must think of what to do with you. Belarus! Ukraine!"

His sisters flanked the screaming girl, dragging her away as she cursed and spit.

Georgia blinked at me and took my arm. She shook as we walked down the stairs. We reached Russia and she pulled me to a stop. She kneeled next to Russia, pulling me down with her. He did not look at us at first, intent on his far away subject. He blinked and turned his bright eyes on Georgia and me.

"Oh, hello," he said, smiling. "You will also go, da?"

"You want us to go?" Georgia placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You must go," Russia said. He shrugged, and brushed away Georgia's hand. He turned away.

"Come, Georgia," I said. She nodded, and made to rise.

"Wait!" Russia grabbed me and pulled me into his arms, squeezing me close. "I will do what I can to protect you, Lithuania. No matter what. I love you, my friend." He kissed me, pushed me away, patted my cheek and let me go. And then, oh. I witnessed one of Russia's finest cruelties.

"Georgia, you cannot go until I give you my gift." He fumbled in his greatcoat pockets.

Georgia glanced at me, startled.

"Gift, Russia?" she said. "I don't understand."

"You asked me once what I part of me I give," he said, pulling a thin square box from an inner pocket. "I take and take but never give. Well here you are, a gift!"

He presented the box. Georgia took it gingerly, hesitated a moment, then opened it. Resting on tissue paper was a golden oval locket. The detailing on the locket was that of sunflowers waving on a hill near the sea.

"Go on, open it," he said, his soft smile not quite matching his shining eyes. Georgia tried to hide her troubled look as she pulled the locket open. She gasped and shut it quickly, her cheeks flaring red.

"Russia, this is…this is an actual piece of…"

Russia grabbed the necklace from Georgia's hand and deftly opened the tiny clasp with his large fingers.

"You hold my heart, Georgia," he said. "You have always. And now here." He placed the locket over her neck and clasped it closed. "Here. Now you will carry a part of my heart everywhere you go."

Georgia shuddered. She grasped the locket, as if to pull it from her neck, but instead rolled it in her hand. Something...changed, then. Her eyes were soft and round, a tinge of shine sparkling beneath the black. She smiled at Russia tenderly.

"Oh Russia," she said. "Must I go?"

He took her hand once more.

"Not forever, I promise," he said. "You are sunshine, Georgia. You are warmth and greenery. You are sunflowers."

He kissed her, pulling his hand through her black curls.

I narrowed my eyes and stood, pulling Georgia away from Russia.

"It's time to go," I said, glaring at Russia. "What did you do?"

Russia shrugged and smiled.

"Goodbye, my love!" Georgia cried as I dragged her from the broken palace. She blew kisses at him as he waved, smiling. "Goodbye! Das vydanya!"

When she was out of his view, she leaned against me as if drunk.

"Oh, he is crazy!" she said. She laughed, low, rumbling chuckles that never ended. She played with the locket, sawing it across her neck. "He is mad! He is mad!"

Ukraine told me later of Russia's time alone. For two years he sat in the foyer, not moving to eat or drink. From time to time Ukraine would deliver a meal, or throw a blanket around him, but there was no sign that he left his seat. He let snow drift around his boots in the winter, and let birds perch on his shoulders in the summer, looking off to some distant spot, unresponsive. Two years he was battered by wind and rain and cold. His coat was haggard and stained, the leather of his boots cracking in the sun.

And then one day, he snapped back. He looked around the remains of his former home, looked down at his blue and red coat.

"This is no good," he said with a smile, unbuttoning the coat and tossing it on the floor. He stood, shook dust from his hair, and walked away from the palace. "Time for a change."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

One day, Georgia found Russia on her beach, eyes closed and breathing in the sea air. She came up to him quietly, and stood next to him.

"I was waiting for you. Somehow I knew you were coming," she said, her hand on her locket. "That is an interesting look."

Russia opened his eyes and smiled down at her. His new tan greatcoat was open to the sea breeze, and his bronze star metal winked in the sun.

"You are ever beautiful, Georgia," he said.

She blushed and looked down.

"I brought lunch," she said, lifting a basket. He took it, and she busied herself with laying out a blanket on the sand and setting up a small picnic of breads, cheeses and wine. She pulled him on the blanket and offered him bread.

"Thank you," he said through munching. "I am very hungry. I've been traveling all day, and I –"

"What did you do to me?" Georgia cut in. She lifted the locket on its chain and let it dangle. "What have you done?"

Russia shrugged and smiled, pouring a glass of wine.

"I am changed, and I know it, Russia. Do not play the idiot."

He sighed and looked to the sea.

"I told you, Georgia, I gave you a piece of me. But if it bothers you, I can take it back." He held out a hand, taking a gulp of wine. Georgia pulled away, covering the locket with her fist. Russia laughed.

"See? There you go. It cannot bother you too much, then." He took her free hand and brought it to his lips. "I have come to ask if you will join me back home. In Russia. Will you be my sunshine, Georgia?"

Georgia sighed and pulled her hand away.

"You can feel it here," she said, tapping the locket. "You already know the answer."

Russia smiled, eyes bright, and took a sip of wine.

"It does not matter," he said. "You will join me in Moscow."

"Moscow?" Georgia scoffed. "Before you at least promised me Petersburg. And now I'll be brought to Moscow? Yet again against my will?"

She scowled and tore a piece of bread to bits, flinging the crumbs onto the beach for the birds.

"Why can we not be friends, Russia?" she said, pleading. "What is so terrible about simply visiting me when you wish? The sea will be here whether I am independent or under your roof. My gardens are still here. I am still here, Russia."

She clasped his hand in hers and placed it on her chest.

"See? I did not disappear while I was free. I am still here, and I will be here whenever you wish to see me."

Russia's eyes lost a bit of their gleam. He moved his hand from Georgia's chest to her cheek.

"You are always here," he said, his smile small. "That is the problem. I need the sun with me. Always."

" I can visit you!" Georgia said, her eyes shining, her voice frantic. "I can come to you sometimes, and we can dance and read and –"

"No." Russia chuckled. He stood, offering his hand to Georgia. "It is not enough. You will come with me to –"

He staggered. His eyes grew dim. He stumbled back, shaking his head.

"What is…what is this?" he said, bemused, holding his head. "I can't…everything is fuzzy."

Georgia stared up at him, eyes still shining. She smiled and blinked rapidly as Russia fell back on the blanket.

"What is wrong, I did not drink so much that –" He stopped, mouth agape, staring at his empty wine glass. "You. You never touched the food and drink."

He looked at Georgia with his bleary eyes.

"You…_poisoned_ me!" A shocked grin spread across his reddening face.

"Just a little," Georgia said, brushing crumbs from her skirt. "I'm not going back with you, Russia. And I will do what I must to stay free."

"You poisoned me!" Russia's laugh rumbled over the beach, even as he shook his head from dizziness. "Oh, you make me laugh."

He lunged at her and grabbed her throat, his large hand circling it gently. He held it there, just high enough above the blanket that Georgia had to sit up straight to keep from being choked. She gasped and clawed at his arm. He shook his head and blinked, smiling.

"Not enough poison," he said. Georgia closed her eyes, her brows raised. "It will clear away soon. But you! What will I do with you? You hurt me, Georgia."

"I. A-am sorry," Georgia stammered.

"I know," Russia said pleasantly. "Everyone is always sorry when they hurt me. But you did more. You break my heart, Georgia."

He tapped the locket. Georgia sucked in a breath.

"You feel this? This ache? Yes, you do, I can see."

He let her go. She rubbed her neck, and brushed the locket with the tips of her fingers.

"You know when I hurt? Then maybe you won't try to hurt me so much, da?" Russia stood again, offering his hand to Georgia. "You see, I love you."

"I know!" Georgia snapped, waving away his hand. He didn't move.

"And I know you love me," he said.

"I can't really help it anymore!" she cried, grabbing the locket. "How can I when you're always here!"

She kicked at the basket. An unopened bottle of wine rolled out onto the blanket. Still Russia hovered over her, hand outstretched.

"Fine!" she cried, grabbing his hand and lifting herself up. "What choice do I have?"

Russia beamed and pulled her into a great, tight hug.

"My sunshine," he said, holding her as she sobbed into his chest. "My light. Soon it will all be as it was before." His voice dipped low. "Only better."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

I knew it was a matter of time before Russia came for me. The time spent in my homeland brought me great joy. I was more relaxed, more at ease than I had been in many years. Certainly not since I lost my dear Poland had I enjoyed myself without worrying what the next day would bring. I did have to work in Mr. America's house from time to time to make ends meet, but he was a pleasant employer (if a bit tactless).

But I knew my peace would be short lived. The world was quaking as bosses from all countries threw down gauntlets. My own boss was too weak to keep me safe from the jaws of war. And in the end, one day Russia arrived on America's doorstep.

"OH! Ah. Wasn't expecting you, big guy!" America said as he answered the door. Russia smiled down at him and put a hand on the door.

"I would like to speak to Lithuania," he said.

"Well, I can call him," America said, large grin on his face. "But hey, it's his call if he wants to have a conversation, right?"

Russia's cheeks burned red, the smile never leaving his face. He leaned over America, just short of a loom.

"Please call him then, and we shall see," he said.

"Woah, you don't have to be so pushy!" America stopped Russia with a hand on the chest, and pushed back lightly. Russia, with all his bulk, staggered back, surprised at America's strength. His eyes glossed over as he leaned back over America. America adjusted his stance, ready to lash out.

"Wait," I said from the hallway where I was watching this exchange. The two men looked at me. Russia's eyes cleared a bit, and he waved. I gave a small half-wave back. "I can talk."

"Well, if you want to," America said with a shrug, arranging himself in his usual slouch. "Call me if anything happens," he muttered as I walked out the door. He closed it behind me, and I was alone with Russia on the porch.

Russia said nothing at first, simply smiling at me with soft, shining eyes. I coughed, blushing from the quiet attention.

"So. Um. You're here," I said to break the silence, rubbing my neck. He grabbed my shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"I am glad to see you, my dear friend," he said. "I have come to help you."

"Help me?" I frowned and tried to shrug off his hand, but it remained firmly on my shoulder. "What do you mean, help me?"

"Everyone is fighting, Lithuania. It is very dangerous right now." He pushed me forward, forcing me to walk down the porch steps. "I told you, I will always protect you."

We walked down America's path, and I knew then what he was doing. I stopped. Russia pushed at me, but I stood my ground.

"I am doing fine," I said. "Maybe I can get America's help if I need it."

Russia squeezed my shoulder until I yelped. He bent to my level, his nose in my face.

"I do not think you understand the danger," he said, smiling. "I understand. You have not seen. But still, I will not see you hurt."

He lifted me then, threw me over his shoulder and walked past America's gate.

America burst through his front door, running after us.

"Hey, come back here! That doesn't look consensual at all!" he cried.

"I am bringing him back home," Russia said, not looking back as he walked. "He is my dear friend and he needs me. Of course," Russia stopped and turned his head slowly back, flashing America a wide, pointy smile and shining violet eyes. "You could fight me for him."

America reeled back from that mad gaze, eyes wide.

"Uh. Well, if…if you guys are friends," he stammered. Russia turned away and continued on his path. America flashed an apologetic smile at me.

"Bye, Lithuania!" he called, waving at my dejection. "You're always welcome here! You know, if you can get away, ahaha! Ha. Hmm."

* * *

><p>Russia's new house in Moscow was quite different from the palace. Oh, it was a magnificent house, sure. There were rooms to spare, and the space was large and airy. But there was no opulence. The rooms were comfortable, but serviceable: plain rugs on the floors, harsh, revolutionary paintings on the walls, angular couches and chairs, white sheets and tan blankets on the beds. And every bookcase was filled with Russian and Marxist writing.<p>

What struck me as the strangest difference, however, was how very crowded the household was. There were those that I remembered, Ukraine and the beautiful Belarus, glowering Chechnya, the quivering Estonia and Latvia (who arrived soon after me). Handsome Azerbaijan and his lover the angry Armenia had been with us before, but were never talkative. They would sit with Georgia in her old parlor, but left the room if any other entered. It was no different in Moscow, though they seemed even more subdued than before. But so many new faces! There were the Stans, Uzbek, Kazakh, Tajik, Kirghiz and Turkmen. They all knew each other from long ago and banded together as brothers, avoiding those of us with more European roots. Tiny Moldova, born at the time of Russia's revolution, scampered through the household, pulling sleeves and begging for sweets.

With the new location and the new people, I felt out of sorts. My life with Russia may have been uneasy before, but now I did not have the small comfort of normalcy. And the one thing that did carry over from Russia's Imperial past was in no way comforting: Georgia's parlor. The room that was an escape in the palace was replicated to the smallest detail in the Moscow mansion. It was eerie; the rugs with their frolicking animals hung on the wall; the couches with their soft, multi-colored pillows; the bookshelf and the baby grand piano; the windows that stretched from ceiling to floor and looked out into the garden. It was as if Russia had carved the room off the palace and carried it with him to Moscow. The only difference was that a combo radio and record player stood against the wall in the fireplace's stead.

And Georgia. Stately Georgia, now wearing military skirt-suits rather than French gowns, black curls pulled up under a tan cap.

"Oh, Lithuania," she said my first day back, grabbing my hands and pulling me into her parlor. She sat me down, poured me tea. "It is so good that you have returned. I was unsure how long I could – it is so very hard." She sat next to me and pulled at her locket, closing her eyes. "My god, it is hard. It is what we feared back at the old home. He is still charming, still cruel, but it is not the same. He may not seem changed, but it is there within him. You must be careful, or –"

She let go of the locket and grasped my hand, staring at me.

"Or he may take you, too," she said, her voice low.

"Take me? Huh." I sipped my tea and shook my head. "As you can see, he already has me."

"No. Listen, Lithuania," she whispered fiercely. "He loves you as he loves me. And he will do anything to keep that love. Anything, you must believe me. If –"

"Ah, my sunshine and my dearest friend!" Russia pushed open the door, beaming at us. At once, Georgia's hand slipped from mine, and her face went soft, eyes shining. She smiled as Russia took up her hand and kissed it and patted my cheek. She quickly poured him tea holding the cup out to him with reverence.

"Ah, thank you," he said, sitting across from us and taking a sip. "I cannot stay long. I am only here to check if my friend has settled in! Tonight you must join the household for dinner, Lithuania. To see everyone in one room as one family brings me good cheer!"

Georgia gasped and clasped the locket.

"Your cheer is our cheer," she said and leaning towards him. Russia laughed, finished off his tea with a great gulp, and stood.

"I am sorry, but I am very, very busy," he said, putting down the cup. "But I promise that soon we will talk."

He smiled and waved as he left.

Georgia let out a long breath, the shine leaving her eyes. Her cheeks were red, and she shook.

"Do you see what I mean now, Lithuania?" she said, wringing her hands and staring at me, brows furrowed. "Did you see that display? And god help me, I cannot stop it! I feel him always, always I know his mood. And when he is with me, my thoughts are drowned with him! I do not know what to do!"

Her shoulders slumped.

"Do not let him take you, Lithuania! Better that he beat you or send you off or, or –"

She stopped, and would not finish. I covered her hands with mine.

"Maybe, maybe if you remove the locket," I said quietly. "I know you have trouble, perhaps if I –"

"No! Do not touch it!" she cried, jumping from the couch, clutching the locket, eyes wide. She dropped to the floor on her knees and covered her face with her hands. "Oh, god, do you see me? Do you see?"

I kneeled next to her, hugging her close. She lay in my arms in silence, cheeks flushed.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"You are back." Chechnya leaned against my door frame. I looked up from my book, and swiveled my chair toward her.

"I am," I said, placidly. "Not that it's my desire to be here."

She smirked.

"I'm sure," she said. "Have you come to be Russia's whore once more? Or have you lost your wits like Georgia?"

I bristled and closed my book.

"I'm no whore," I said quietly. "And no, I'm not under Russia's spell. But I will survive. And I will do what I must to keep safe."

"Ah, so you haven't lost your wits YET," she said. She laughed mirthlessly. "Georgia played that game and look where she is now."

I stood and marched to the door.

"Why are you here?" I said, slamming my hand on the doorframe. "Just to mock me, or is there something you need?"

She backed away, never taking her eyes off my face.

"I am sorry you've returned," she said. Her face softened. "I truly am, Lithuania. I thought you were safe. But if even you cannot get away –" she set her small chin. "Then I have no choice."

She ran off down the hallway.

* * *

><p>Chechnya. Chechnya never trembled. She never spoke of what the Sisters did, nor where she was before Russia's mansion was built. And when I asked Georgia, she smiled vaguely and shrugged.<p>

"Chechnya was here when I returned," she said, sipping her tea. "Amazing how Russia still wants her here, isn't it? His boss must be obsessed, for I believe Russia, even in his madness, knows he can't tame her!"

I did not reply, but I agreed. Still Chechnya refused to bow to Russia's will. She skipped the nightly dinners, could not be found for chores, and wandered the gardens during household meetings. However, her violence from before had lessoned considerably. No longer did she attack Russia about the knees or leave paint cans above doors. But her anger was as strong as ever.

All this I learned after my first dinner back. For that night was when Chechnya exploded.

The evening started simply enough. The entire household but Chechnya gathered at the long table in the elegant and simple dining room. Russia sat at the head. Estonia, Latvia and I served dinner and then sat down. I found to my chagrin that Russia had me sitting at his right hand. Murmurs of conversation echoed down the table.

"Lithuania, tell me about Mr. America," he said with a smile. "He's a very loud man, isn't he?"

"Oh! Ah. Yes, I suppose." I pushed my palmeni around my plate, avoiding his eyes.

"And rude? He can be very impolite sometimes." He laughed and patted my shoulder. "I know how much my Lithuania hates rude people."

I blushed and coughed.

"Well, he wasn't so bad once I got to know him. He can be very generous –" I looked up. Russia's cheeks flared red. I finished quickly. "But ultimately, yes, yes, very rude. Rarely used a fork, can you believe it? And the house was such a mess, ahaha."

Russia kept smiling, the glow of his cheeks diminishing.

"Well, now you are back home with civilized people," he said. He popped a dumpling in his mouth.

The door to the dining room swung open and crashed into the wall. Chechnya, wearing the clothes of her home country, waltzed in.

"Oh, Chechnya," Russia said. His smile drooped just a little. "You are here. And late."

"I am not late, bully," she said. She jumped up on the table, rattling dishes. There were gasps as she walked along it, kicking plates out of the way and into people's laps. She scattered a dish of dumplings, overturned a bowl of soup. It spread over the tablecloth, staining it with the wine glasses that she knocked over and crushed beneath her feet. All trembled, watching her as she approached Russia. Russia did not move. His small smile never dropped away. Even his cheeks were pale.

"You are troubled, Chechnya," he said. "Sit. Eat. A full stomach will make things better."

"No, it will not," she growled, continuing her approach. She squashed a dumpling, ground the filling into the tablecloth. "Bread is not enough! I want my home!"

Finally she reached him, and squatted on the table in front of him. Russia's bright eyes watched her. He cocked his head.

"You are home," he said with a smile. "And you have been so calm. Was it not easier when you were calm? Sit, Chechnya. Join the family."

"You are not my family!" she screamed, slapping Russia's cheek. His head moved slightly, and a red mark glowed against his white skin. Chechnya jumped off the table and ran to the windows. She ripped the curtains from the rails, splitting them down the middle. A vase sitting in the corner was tipped and slammed against the floor. She grabbed a painting of Lenin hanging over Russia's chair and kicked a hole in it by Lenin's beard. She grabbed a bottle of wine and ran from the dining room. Crashes were heard in the next room.

The room was in an uproar. People stood, swearing, mopping up food, crying out in fear. Only three still sat: Georgia, who was across from me, sipping her wine and gazing at nothing; Russia, still smiling in his chair, watching the chaos; and me, eyes darting from the household to Georgia, to Russia. Suddenly Georgia's eyes cleared. They widened, and looked at me, despair on her face. I looked at Russia; Chechnya's mark was slowly swallowed by Russia's blush.

"Lithuania, come," he said, standing. "The others can clean up this mess."

Georgia grabbed his hand, but he shook her off and nodded to me. I followed him out the dining room.

The next room over, a sensible sitting room, was demolished. Chechnya had taken a letter opener to the couches, and they spewed stuffing on the floor. Books were scattered, curtains in tatters, glass on the floor.

"Reminds me of the Revolution," Russia murmured. "Good times!"

We searched the house, following Chechnya's path of destruction: paintings ripped from their frames, wine splashed on the walls, anything cloth cut and torn. Finally we found her in Georgia's parlor, slicing at the giant rugs and their frolicking animals. She was muttering under her breath, stabbing fruitlessly at the thick woven fabric. Russia laughed in the doorway.

"This was not the right room to choose," he said. Chechnya looked up. She swung around, holding a pair of scissors out in front of her and waving them around.

"Don't come any closer," she snarled.

"Big mistake," he said, walking toward her. She backed away and hit the wall, still waving the scissors. "The other rooms, very inconvenient to clean up. But not a problem. THIS room? THIS room I like."

He grabbed the scissors and yanked them from Chechnya's hand. She scrambled to get away, but he had her by the arm.

"Oh, Chechnya, what to do with you?" He said as she struggled and clawed and spit. "Why are you never happy like the others? How can I teach –"

He looked up at me and smiled, snapping his fingers.

"I know!" he said. "You just need a small vacation! Something fun and relaxing! Lithuania, you think Chechnya will like Siberia?"

Chechnya gasped, the anger on her face replaced by horror. She hung limp in Russia's arm, staring at me, eyes wide and pleading. Russia was smiling. Waiting.

"W-well," I stuttered, looking back and forth between them. "I think Chechnya's learned a lesson here today, don't you think? No need to send her away from home, ahaha."

Russia looked up, thoughtful.

"Ahhhhh, no, I do not think she's learned a lesson in a long time," he said with a smile. "So Siberia it is!"

He exited the room, dragging Chechnya along, me trailing behind.

"No!" Chechnya screamed. "No, I won't go! You can't! You can't make me!" She clawed his arm, kicked at his shins and stumbled down the hallway, through the lobby and out the front door. He stopped at the entrance.

"Lithuania, you stay here," Russia said, ignoring Chechnya's pleas. He shoved me back through the door. "I will return."

"But – how are you going to get out there?" I cried.

"Simple!" he smiled down at Chechnya, now limp in his hand. "We walk."

He slammed the door in my face.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The house was quiet after Chechnya's departure. "In mourning," Latvia whispered one evening as he swept the stairs. "And sure they're next."

He was right. The trembling fear of "what if?" was now a proven terror. The Stans grouped together as one mass, as if greater numbers could fend off the worst. The lovers, Armenia and Azerbaijan, now avoided all including Georgia. Moldova clung to Ukraine's skirts. The Baltic brothers, including myself, stuck together, for who else did we have?

It was Georgia who was now alone, with Russia as her only company. I regret to say that I stopped visiting with her as often as I had before the Revolution. Since Chechnya's departure, it was as if the dam had broken within her. All the fight she had against her cursed gift was gone. The shine was always in her eyes now, whether Russia joined her company or not. She hummed little communist marches to herself, and knit late into the night "for our boys."

Russia noticed. In the midst of a war, with contention in his household, he reveled in his victory.

"Georgia, we will go for a walk together, da?" he said, offering his elbow.

"Oh, that sounds lovely," Georgia sighed, clinging to him as he led her around like a puppy on a leash.

"Georgia, please read to me, like the old times," he said, stretched out and she leapt up from her couch and grabbed Pushkin from her bookshelf.

"Ah, my sunshine has arrived," he said at the entryway to the dining room, kissing her hand and leading her in.

"Better her than me," Estonia muttered while chopping onions. "Russia wants us to see how happy she is, but look at her face! Like a porcelain doll. Is anything left behind the eyes?"

He paused and wiped the sweat from his brow. I lingered over tea at the kitchen table, leaning on my arm.

"How sad, though," I said. "She was so vibrant! And now, what is she? Just a toy for his amusement.

"It's her own fault," Latvia muttered as he washed the breakfast dishes. "She's the one who chooses to be paraded around like a prize horse."

"Oh, but she doesn't!" I sat up and shook my head. "Ever since Russia gave her that damned gift –"

"Gift?" Estonia's knife stopped midair. "What gift?"

"You know, the locket, the locket!"

Estonia and Latvia exchanged a look.

"You mean…that necklace she's always fiddling with?"

"Yes, of course the necklact that – oh. That's right, you both had left before he gave her the gift." I drummed my fingers on the table. "Russia gave her that locket before she left for her own home. He said he gave her a piece of his heart. To remember him by, I thought, but there's something not right about that necklace."

The men stared at me, mouths open a little.

"I knew it!" Estonia said, slamming the knife down on the cutting board. "I KNEW that Russia had something evil about him! He's more than any other conquering nation, he's got, he's got –"

"An aura," Latvia chimed in.

"That's right, an aura! An unclean aura about him!" he shook his head, and went back to his onions. "Again, though, better her than me. I'm certainly glad Russia never thought of ME as his favorite. Can you imagine, on his beck and call, running around having to please that lunatic's every whim OW!"

Latvia kicked the back of his leg and nodded at me. A lightbulb flashed, and Estonia had the grace to look embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Lituania," he muttered.

"No, that's…all right," I said, looking down at my tea. There was an awkward pause. Latvia gasped.

"Oh, Lithuania," he said, his eyes wide. "He's got Georgia now, every bit of her. What if…what if he goes after you next?"


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

I was on edge. I could not shake the worry of Georgia and Latvia's warnings about Russia's affections. It clung to me, making me jump at Russia's every request. It did not help that as the war against the Axis continued, Russia relied on my company more and more. No longer was I left in the mansion while he traveled on diplomatic missions.

"You must join me," he said pleasantly, patting my shoulder. And so I did. I was there when he made his deal with Germany, and there when he ran to the Allies as Germany invaded. I was there when the three big bosses came together and lied about their devotion to each other.

If only it was the simple visits that I joined him for, and I could leave him to the rest. But no, he took me to…other locations as well.

"See my people," he said, eyes shining at the Russian front line. At the young men who ran at the enemy and were cut down like wheat in the path of a scythe. So many young men, fired at by the enemy, and fired at by their superiors if they thought of retreat. Russia clutched his heart and gasped as each wave fell.

"They fight honorably," he said, leaning on my shoulder. "We must be witnesses to their sacrifice."

Again we were witnesses in the broken streets of Stalingrad, watching from a distance as snipers kept the Germans at bay. And again we were witnesses in the empty lanes of Leningrad. Russia stumbled past shuttered windows that hid away freezing people who were no more than bones and skin. No stray dogs or cats crossed our path, for none were left. We climbed to the top of the city walls and gazed down at the German tanks keeping the people from food and fuel. Russia shook on his feet and leaned against the wall.

"It is always the same, Lithuania," he said with a smile. "When they come, my people are slaughtered. There is no mercy. And what can I do but watch?"

He shrugged and turned his shining eyes on me.  
>"And, of course, call on General Winter. Ah, I hate that bastard. Still, if they slaughter, he slaughters back, da?"<p>

He waved at the German tanks. I held my hand over my eyes and squinted against the glare of the sun on the snow. Far behind the tanks, so far back that he looked like an ant on the landscape, was a man on horseback. He lifted his arm and waved at us. Russia closed his eyes.

"My people will suffer," he said, his smile widening. "But they will suffer more."

That night the snow and wind whipped around us as we walked from the city. I shivered and quaked in the freezing temperatures, arms wrapped around my body and face buried in my scarf. But Russia stood strong against the wind, wading through the snow as if it were no more than summer grass. Not long after there were reports of German troops dropping like icicles from the harsh cold.

These trips drew me ever dear in Russia's affections. His eyes lost some of their shine when he spoke to me, madness replaced by soft devotion. My worry increased. It was only a matter of time before the war ended, and then where would I be? Trapped like Georgia? And so, I hatched my plan.

"What do you want, Lithuania?" Belarus hissed at me. Her lovely face was scrunched in a menacing glare. She stood at her door, dressed in a long nightgown, platinum hair swept up in a braid. "I have told you before, I have no desire for your company. Not when HE has no time for me."

She made to close the door. I stopped it with a foot.

"Wait! Wait! Ow, damn!" I caught a small cry in my throat as she pounded my foot in the door. I kicked it open. She stumbled and fell on her backside. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" I reached out a hand. She slapped it away and crossed her arms.

"Hurry up," she snarled. "Or I'll scream. You may still be Russia's favorite, but how will things be when the rest of the house thinks of you as a lewd intruder?"

"Listen, I won't deny that I have thought kindly on you in the past," I said quickly. She rolled her eyes. "Wait! But while, of course, I still think highly of you, I know that you're heart points towards another. Another whom I cannot love."

She looked up at me and furrowed her brows.

"Go on?"

I sat next to her on the floor and clasped my hands together.

"Listen Bela, your brother does hold part of my heart. But I have no desire for him to consume it all. I have to shake him off. Perhaps," I stood and held out my hand. "Perhaps if he thinks we are a couple, he will leave me be? Meanwhile, I can tell you all I know about him. The more you know, the more you may yet win him."

Belarus hesitated a moment, then nodded and took my hand.

"Crafty," she said, lifting herself from the floor. "Though your crush on me still creeps me out."

I laughed.

"I'm not the one in love with my brother! Oh!" she stomped on my wounded foot. I hopped back, cursing.

"We start tomorrow," she said. "You will take me to the theatre at eight. Be prompt!"

She slammed the door in my face.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

I won't deny that I tried to woo Belarus. How could I not pine for the affections of the beautiful White Russia? I offered her flowers and chocolates on our first outing. The chocolates she tossed to the dogs, the flowers she trampled beneath her feet in front of the theatre. She sat next to me grimacing throughout the performance, flustering the actors if they caught a glimpse of her frosty face.

I took her to dinner on our next excursion. She snorted when I pulled the chair out for her, and grabbed the wine bottle from me when I tried to pour for her.

"You take me for a bourgeois?" she sneered. "I can do for myself."

All questions I asked of her were ignored, and her end of the conversation consisted of nothing but an endless patter about her brother.

"What is Russia's favorite book? Color? Is he any good at chess? He won't play with me though I've asked so many times. Do you think he likes cake much? What is his favorite brand of vodka?"

Her familial obsession unnerved me, and the spark I felt towards her dimmed to the lowest burn of attraction. Still, it was good to get away from the mansion. Her violence lessoned, and once Belarus was sure that I would not pursue her or her brother romantically, we entered a delicate friendship built on our problems with Russia.

"You are crazy," Latvia said to me as we arranged dinnerware on the dining table. "Russia is bound to notice you eventually."

"That's what I want," I said lightly, setting spoons next to the fine china. "Nothing would please me more than if Russia thought I was unattainable. Anything to get him off my back."

"Oh, yes, because that is how Russia functions." Estonia entered the dining room with a cart filled with bowls and platters of food. He motioned to them, and Latvia and I helped him set the food at intervals around the table. "Russia is the rational sort. He knows when to let go of something that he wants but can't have."

Latvia looked confused as he set down a giant bowl of potatoes.

"That doesn't sound like Russia at all," he said. Estonia let out a long sigh.

"You're playing with fire," Estonia continued. "You think you're solving your problem, but I promise you it will come to a bad end."

"You two worry too much," I said, laughing nervously. "I assure you, everything is under control."

For a time, I thought I was right. Russia must have noticed Belarus and I keeping company, though he never spoke of it, for soon he was bringing both of us on his missions rather than just me. Bela was thrilled to come along as we witnessed the war first hand, giving little thought to the suffering in front of her. She hung on her big brother like moss to a stone as we toured battles and broken cities and allied meetings.

Whether it was Bela's inappropriate behavior or whether he was discouraged by my continued visits with Belarus, Russia eventually dropped both of us from the travel roster. I was thrilled the fourth or fifth time he traveled alone and it dawned on me that Russia was pointedly not asking me to come along with him. I hummed an old country tune in my room as I patched up a worn sock.

Bela stormed into my room and slammed a fist on my desk.

"What did you say to him?" she snarled.

"Nothing at all, I promise," I said pleasantly, my mood too high to be worried by her temper. "He simply decided that we won't travel with him anymore. Nothing to be done about that."

"That's…but that's…" Bela shook with fury. She slapped me twice. I shook my head and shrugged.

"You can do what you want to me, but I can't change his mind," I said, still darning my sock. Then Bela did something that quite unnerved me: she began to cry. She dropped on my bed and sobbed. Stunned, I rummaged around my pocket for a handkerchief and handed it to her. She took it and wiped away at the big tears rolling down her cheeks.

"You don't know how it is," she said, choking on the words, "To love someone so deeply who refuses to acknowledge you."

"I know better than you think," I muttered, thinking of Poland and even on Bela as she wept for another.

"But you HAVE his affection!" she cried. "You and that…that gaudy slut Georgia have his heart. He would do anything for you. And I HATE you for it! I never want to speak to you again!"

She jumped off my bed and ran from my room, tears streaming behind her.

* * *

><p>Whatever Russia's initial reasons for keeping me at arms length, I soon found out one reason for his secrecy. One day, a month or so after my conversation with Bela, Russia called the household down to his main office. We crowded around the bookcases, murmuring to each other, confused. Russia stood behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back, beaming at us. A line of people stood on either side of the desk, people I knew from my past: Romania, Bulgaria, the lovely Hungary, Czechoslovakia to my right; Yugoslavia, Albania, Prussia and…and Poland to my left. I breathed in sharply at his laid back demeanor. He caught my eye and gave a small wave.<p>

"My family!" Russia said, beaming at us all. "The war is over!"

Shocked silence led to pleased murmurs.

"And not only that," Russia continued, "We have made some new friends! Tonight they will dine with us. Please, if you will, make our friends feel at home until then."

There was some hesitation from the household.

"Come, come! Talk, mingle, show them around our beautiful home. Who first? Ah. Lithuania!"

I jumped and walked forward.

"You know Poland, yes? You will show him around, make him comfortable."

My mouth dropped. Russia stared at me, smiling with his shining eyes. I frowned and squinted at him. His smile grew wider.

"I…yes, of course. Poland, this way."

"Hey, yeah, sure," Poland said, sauntering after me. _Is it true, then,_ I thought. _Will Russia give me anything I want? At what price?_


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"As you can see, Russia's style is much more minimalist than his Imperial days," I said, leading Poland down the main hallway. "But he still has a taste for fine things, ahah."

"Uh huh." Poland meandered behind me as I showed him around the mansion, picking up and putting down knick-knacks, turning lamps on and off, rubbing his hands along the wallpaper. "Looks like this place is pretty lame to me. I mean, like, where's the party? You got all this space and man, it's full of boring crap."

I bristled.

"It's not that boring," I said. "We have a fairly extensive library. Oh, and we have a few big radios if you want to listen to a show. And you wouldn't believe the labs that we have in the basement! The scientists are –"

"Oh, major Z's, man. I'm like, falling asleep." Poland leaned against the wall and grinned at me. "I remember you being totally cool. What, did Russia squish out all the fun?"

I furrowed my brows and frowned.

"You don't have to be so insulting," I said, crossing my arms. "It's not like I want to live this way."

"Sure, whatever." Poland shrugged. "But you kinda like it, right? So, admit that you're a big fat lam-o and you can keep on with your museum curator shtick."

I snorted. A commotion came from far down the hall. It was the Stans, flirting heavily with Hungary and Romania. I grabbed Poland's arm and pulled him into the nearest room, closing the door behind me.

The room was a spacious hall with a grand piano and a large harp in the center.

"Huh, I didn't know we had a music room," I said, walking up to the piano. Poland followed me and slipped onto the bench. He began to play. I listened for a moment before nodding.

"Chopin," I said. "Nocturne in F major. Opus 15. Number 1."

Poland laughed as he continued to play.

"You've got time to memorize Chopin?" he said over the music.

"Well, there's not much to do here but worry," I said. I blushed. "And I, I wanted to keep up with what was going on, you know. With you."

Poland stopped with a clunk of keys. He closed the keyboard and leaned his arms against it, looking up at me.

"He's a classic, sure," he said with a shrug. "But not my fave. You should hear some of the jazzy stuff coming out of America! Man it's cool. I got to hear some of it before Russia blocked him off. Crazy!"

I looked down at my feet.

"I'm…I'm sorry that he got to you," I said. "Russia, I mean. I was hoping that he'd…that he'd –"

"Hey, dude, don't sweat it," Poland waved a hand at me. "He's better than Germany. Not by much, sure, but jeez did Germany leave some scars! Ha! Anyway, it's more like my boss is friends with his boss than any of the weird playing house thing YOU have to do. That's pretty creepy."

I looked up, irritated again.

"Again, it's not like I have a choice."

"I don't know. You looked all excited out in the hall." He pressed his hands against his cheeks. "'Oh, we have sooo many books! And even a radio! Gee I wonder if you want to see the sciencing we do!' Pretty nerdy!"

He opened the keyboard and began to play. I pulled the lid down with a glisten of discordant sound. Poland moved his hands just in time.

"Hey, what was all that about?" he said, eyebrows raised.

"I'm so sick of you pretending that I just waltzed over to Russia, knocked on his door and said, 'Oh, excuse me Mr. Crazy Evil Guy, I'm tired of all this personal freedom. Do you mind just letting me in? I can show myself to the torture chambers.'"

I kicked the piano bench, shifting Poland in his seat. I paced back and forth.

"Meanwhile, you prance around as if I abandoned you, playing like you and I never…we never…"

"Calm down, man."

"I am calm!" I cried, stopping mid-stride and stumbling over my feet. "But you! You barely talked to me when I was stuck here the first time –"

"Finland was not a fan of Russia," he said with a shrug. "He wouldn't let me –"

"Stupid excuse! You could have visited! And even when I was free, you never accepted my invitations." I was pacing again. "Then I tried to warn you about Germany and Russia, and you acted like it was no big deal while ignoring me completely! And look at you now! Stuck under Russia right after being trapped with Germany! You great big idiot!"

Tears were running down my cheeks. I wiped them away angrily with a sleeve.

"And now you're here, insulting me for having the audacity to find a little happiness in this cheerless place! What do you want from me?"

I stood in silence, sniffling, for a moment, Poland looking up at me with his open, congenial face. Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me on the bench, throwing an arm around me.

"You great big loser," he said, hugging me close. "You're all worked up over nothing. Sorry for making you cry."

"So you're not avoiding me?" I said, wiping away tears.

He didn't answer for a moment.

"We're not together anymore," he said finally. "I mean, it was great when we were, no lie. But, like, it's been over for a long time. Gotta move on, you know?"

I blinked, swallowed and nodded. I gently pushed him away, shaking my head. He punched my shoulder.

"We're still friends, though, right?" he said with a grin.

"Yeah, I guess," I said, not looking at him.

"Great!" He stood up and walked to the door. "Come on, show me around the rest of this dump and then let's eat! I'm starving!"


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The rest of the visit was uneventful. The dinner went well, the guests chatting away with the household. Russia had Poland sat next to me, and I kept the conversation light, pushing down my anger and heartbreak.

The next day he was gone, along with the others who were now part of what Russia called the Eastern Bloc.

"Our friends," he said with a smile. "Better than those sneaky Allies!"

For a month after the visit I walked around the Mansion in a daze, going through the motions of my chores. Latvia and Estonia talked around me, politely ignoring my silence as I set up dinnerware or prepared tea trays or mended Russia's suits. I let all thoughts fall from my mind, preferring the mist to feeling anything. I snapped out of it only once.

"Like Georgia," Latvia whispered to Estonia one day, glancing my way. I looked up from the plate I was washing and stared at him.

"I am not like Georgia," I snarled. "And I won't ever be." Then I slipped back into the silence, ignoring their stunned looks.

And so I stayed in my haze, trying to forget the small hope of Poland's love was now gone. I never realized how much that hope sustained me through my stay at the Palace. I was in mourning.

One evening I retired to my room after a long, foggy day, not quite certain what I accomplished but on some level glad to be back in my own apartment. I opened my door to find Russia sitting cross-legged on my bed, arranging a chess board.

"Ah, Lithuania!" he said with a smile, not looking up from the board. He waved me in and motioned to the empty space across from him. "Come, sit. Let's play a game. You like chess, da?"

His solid presence in my personal space pulled me from my daze.

"What are you doing here?" I blurted, walking hesitantly to my bed. He looked up, smile still firmly in place.

"It is my home," he said, cocking his head. "I go where I wish in my home. Come, join me. I have tea."

He grabbed a mug from my desk and offered it to me. I took it from his hand and sat across from him, careful not to rock the pieces on the board. Russia set up the last few pawns then nodded, pleased.

"There we are, all set! Ready to play?"

"I don't think –"

"Ha, sometimes you do not think, true." Russia said, his eyes shining. "But I'll give you time and go first."

He turned the board so that he was now white. Without hesitation, he moved the pawn in front of his king forward one square. I sighed and looked over the pieces.

"You are my greatest friend, Lithuania," he said, watching me with his smile. "Since you returned home, you have been not so friendly."

"Hmm? Oh." I moved my queen's knight to C6. "Well, you were very busy for a long time. With the war and all."

"Yes, yes," he said, waving a hand. "Still, you made it difficult. To be friends, I mean. When you pursued my sister, for instance."

My jaw dropped. With a quick hand, he moved his queen to F3.

"Ah. Well, I did try," I said. I took a quick sip of tea and gulped nervously. "With your sister, I mean. I mean, I pursued her, but with the best intentions! But, haha, she's hung up on another."

"I know," Russia said with a rueful grin. "She is creepy, right? And she is persistent." He looked down, letting his hair cover his bright eyes. "But that runs in the family. I am persistent as well."

I turned the cup in my hand, hovering over the chessboard. I moved my pawn to E5. Russia did not move.

"How was your visit with Poland?" He said, voice light. I stiffened, let in a small breath and smiled.

"It went well," I said with the same light voice. "He's as ditzy as ever. Such a dunce! Still, it's nice to visit with…with old friends."

"Is it?" Russia moved his hair aside and smiled. "I would not know. All my old friends leave me heartsick. It is good that you do not suffer the same problem."

Again he moved quickly: King's bishop to C4. I stared at him, brows furrowed, not paying attention to the board.

"Why so curious about his visit? And why would you say that?" I said. "Just out of the blue. Heartsick?"

Russia did not answer. He simply smiled at me. My eyes grew wide. My hands shook, spilling a bit of the hot tea.

"You knew," I said. "You knew Poland's feelings for me had…had changed. Why, Russia? Why would you set me up like that?"

Russia shook his head, still smiling.

"Set you up?" he said. "I do not know what you mean. But you learned something you did not like about Poland's affections for you?"

"You know damn well what I learned!" I snapped, setting the mug on the chair. Russia shrugged.

"It's good you know the truth, then. Just as you know the truth of my sister's affections for you. Ah, Lithuania." He patted my knee. "Why pine for those who do not return your love? And when there are others who will make you happy if you let them!" He shook his head, always, always smiling. "Your move."

I blinked away tears. With shaking hands, with little thought, I moved my pawn to E5.

"You are a monster," I whispered. "Selfish. Mad. Why? Why do this to me?"

Russia squeezed my knee until it throbbed. I held in a cry of pain, frowning, glaring at him, daring him to hurt me.

"I love you, Lithuania," he said finally, releasing me. I sucked in a breath. "And I always get what I want."

His hands were swift: Queen to F7, capturing my pawn. Trapping my king.

"Checkmate," he said. He laughed. "You are not so good at this game!"

He slid off my bed, stood and ruffled my hair.

"I will leave you now. Get some rest," he said, opening my door. He paused, looked back and smiled. "Oh. And, I think it is time you start hanging out with Georgia again, da? She misses you."

He closed the door gently behind him. I swept the board off my bed, scattering the pieces across my floor.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

I refused to leave my room. Nor did I move from the bed. Sometimes I slept, sometimes I sat with my eyes open, fuming noiselessly. The sun came and went, people came and went. I refused to acknowledge them, whether they came with kind words or food and drink.

"You have to eat something," Latvia coaxed, offering me a bowl of millet. "You can't just starve yourself."

I looked up at him with sunken eyes.

"Why not?" I said. "He wants to break me. Well, let him try! Let him force the food between my lips!"

Latvia shook his head, eyes sad, and left, leaving the millet and a cup of tea behind. I sipped at the tea, unable to conquer thirst, but the millet remained untouched.

Word spread about my hunger strike. Others who never thought of me before came to visit me. The Stans crowded in my room, jabbering away about my "bravery" and "defiance." Moldova took to leaving cookies and plushki on my desk, then eating them when she found them uneaten. Ukraine came and rung her fingers over me.

"Please be careful," she said. "Don't upset little brother."

Even the lovers Azerbaijan and Armenia hovered over me, not talking to me but bickering about whether I was a fool or an idiot.

Belarus and Georgia never visited. Russia visited every day. He did not speak on his visits, coming at the end of the day when exhaustion overcame me but sleep was still at bay. He sat in my chair, watching over me, hands on his knees, flickers of concern in his shining eyes. Sometimes his cheeks were pale as snow. Sometimes ruddy with anger. I ignored him, but for the casual glance to make sure he was still there. He sat until I fell asleep, unable to keep conscious any longer. And he was gone when I woke.

The days passed, one running into another. I grew gaunt, and my trembling no longer came from fear or anger. Sleep came more often and more easily. The hunger gnawing at my stomach became an old friend. One night I woke up with Russia squeezing my hand between his large paws.

"You will stop this," he was muttering. "You will stop this, and you will come back to me. You will, I will make sure of it!"

Sleep enveloped me again before I could reply.

The very next morning, Latvia barged through my door, jarring me from my sleep.

"What?" I croaked, shaking as I sat up.

"You must eat, you must get well enough to stand," he said, shoving a bowl of oatmeal and honey in my hand. "Chechnya is returning."

My jaw dropped. Latvia took the opportunity to shove a steaming spoonful of oatmeal in my mouth. I swallowed without thinking, ending my hunger strike for want of information.

"When?" I said. "Why? What do you mean?"

Latvia fed me another spoon of oatmeal, quieting my questions.

"Just this morning Russia decided," he said. "I can't believe it, Lithuania, it actually worked! Starving yourself worked! Now, eat, but not too fast or too much or else you'll make yourself sick."

I finished about half the oatmeal before the food sat too heavily on my stomach to be appealing. Latvia forced me up on my feet and walked me around before putting me back to bed. He came again at lunch, and again at dinner for the same routine: oatmeal, movement, bed. He did this for three days, the only one to visit at that time, working with me until I was ravenous for more than cereal and walking was no longer painful. On the fourth day he pulled me to the bath house, where I steamed and showered until the muck and grease was purged from my body. I came back to my room, refreshed, comfortable, and letting myself feel a little joy. Chechnya free! And all I had to do was go hungry for a time. A small time, really.

"Come on, put on something nice," Latvia said, excited. "She's coming home today! Wow, how long has it been? Since the war began!"

I laughed as he tossed me a shirt and trousers.

"Well, I can't wait, either," I said. "To see her sullen face around here once more. I can't believe it! I wonder how angry she'll be. Spitting mad, I'm sure!"

We left the room and joined the rest of the household on the steps of the Mansion. There was a small round of applause when I appeared, some slaps on the back, some handshakes.

"Here's the one who got one over on the big man!" a Stan cried, and there was a patter of laughter. I smiled and nodded, blushing and shrugging.

"Look, there they are!" Moldova cried, jumping up and down. And so they were, walking up the drive of the Mansion, Russia in his great gray coat, Chechnya in a skirted tan uniform.

"Something's not quite right," Estonia muttered.

I watched their approach, and caught what he meant. Chechnya leaned heavily on Russia's side, limping as she walked. As she approached, the marks and scars along her arms and face became visible. She stared down at the pavement, watching every step she made. They stopped in front of us, Russia holding Chechnya steady as she swayed on her feet.

"My family! Welcome back an old friend!" Russia said, smiling at the crowd. He placed his hand on top of Chechnya's head. "Chechnya, please say hello. Everyone is here for you!"

Chechnya looked up. Her face blank. Her lips twitching a bit. Her eyes dead.

"Oh. Hello." Her voice was flat. Monotone. "Thank you for coming. To see me."

The crowd was still.

"Come on then," Russia said, lifting Chechnya into his arms and carrying her past the crowd. "Let's see what's for dinner, shall we?"

Chechnya clung limply to him, nodding slightly. We watched them passed, horrified glances shared between us all.

"Oh god," someone whispered. "What has he done to her?"


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Chechnya sat at Russia's left side, taking Georgia's usual spot. Georgia didn't seem to mind, fawning over the poor wooden Chechnya. She cut her meat, served her potatoes, poured her wine. All the while Chechnya stared at the table, her blank, scarred face unmoving. She picked up a fork and ate mechanically: stab, open mouth, in, chew, swallow, repeat.

"Is it tasty?" Georgia murmured, smiling, her glassy eyes mirroring Chechnya's dead eyes.

"Yes. Thank you," Chechnya said between bites, never looking up from the table.

Dinner conversation was whispered, with stolen glances down the table at the once vibrant girl. Russia did not notice the household's muted tone, or if he did he chose to ignore it. He watched Chechnya eat, watched her pause to pick up her glass from time to time for a quick sip. Smiling. Always smiling.

"Look at that, Lithuania," he said, glancing at me before turning his gaze back to Chechnya. "Look at how well-mannered she is! Not the angry girl she was before."

"No," I said, trying with some difficulty to keep the sadness from my voice. "She is not."

"Are you happy now, Chechnya, after your vacation?" Russia asked, leaning towards the little wind up doll. Chechnya paused and looked up from the table at Russia. There was the smallest flicker in her eyes, so quick that I'm not sure it was real.

"I am now, sir," she said with her wooden tone. "I am very happy."

She returned her attention to her meal.

"Good!" Russia said. He rose in his seat and lifted his wine glass. The conversation at the table dimmed, and people raised their own glasses.

"My family, let us welcome back our dear sister Chechnya! Vasha Zdarovya!"

"Vasha Zdarovya," the household murmured, drinking to the unhappy toast.

"Also!" Russia said, pulling me from my seat. "Also, welcome back Lithuania! I am glad he has recovered from his heart sickness!"

He laughed and slapped my shoulder.

"Oh. Thank you, sir." I nodded at the household, and tried to sit back down. Russia pulled me back.

"Wait, wait. I did not like seeing you so sad, my friend," he said. "To see you so brought down. Well! I thought. I will not let that happen again! No one in my family will be so broken hearted. And so," he rummaged in his coat and pulled out a box. "I have brought you a gift."

I froze. My eyes grew wide.

"A – a gift, sir?" I whispered. He placed the box in my hands.

"Go on," he said. "Open it. Show everyone."

My hands shook as I took off the lid. Within was a blood red medallion ringed with gold on a thin, gold chain. Etched into the gold were the words:

На мой дорогой друг Литвы.

Na moy dorogoy droog Litvuie.

To my dear friend Lithuania.

I looked up, quickly glancing around the table for help. All eyes were on me. Most were confused, not knowing the significance of the gift. Belarus glowered at me. Georgia smiled, joyfully playing with her locket. I could hear the *click*click* of the clasp as she opened and closed it. Latvia and Estonia stared at me in horror, Latvia crumpling his napkin in his fist, Estonia shaking his head a little.

I took the medallion and let the box fall with a clatter to the table. It swung gently back and forth in my hand.

"I don't deserve this," I said, voice low.

"You deserve the best!" Russia said, beaming. "Go ahead, put it on!"

With lidded eyes I stared at it. Looked back at Georgia with her porcelain face. Looked at Chechnya, now the automaton. I giggled and slid my eyes to Russia.

"You always get what you want," I murmured. He smiled a great, wide, shining, mad smile.

I looked back at the household, picked up my wine glass and held it high.

"It's been nice knowing you," I said. "See you again someday. I hope. Vasha Zdarovya!"

I gulped down the wine to the bemused and worried looks of the household, slammed my glass on the table and draped the chain around my neck.

My heart seized. I clutched my chest and pulled at the chain, stumbling back into my chair. Sweat beaded on my brow. It was a battle within me, thoughts twisting around, buzzing and sawing, half my own, half – something else entirely, clutching, squeezing, crushing anything that came from me. My body tensed, my heart pummeled my chest. There was a tug as well as emotions I had long thought dead were pulled to the front: love, yes, affection, respect, all for Russia, all for him. The turmoil, I could feel, was something that could be warded off. _Think!_ My mind cried, and the crushing eased a moment, only to return. _No! Stay away!_ Again it eased. I could fight. I could.

But I did not. I was never so pragmatic as Georgia, able to hide away true thoughts and feelings, create a self within to survive. She watched me twitch, watched me fight across the table, already long lost herself. And Chechnya, with her dolls eyes, watched as well. I was so tired. So very tired.

I can't, I mouthed to her. I am sorry.

I saw again a flicker in her eyes as the crushing surrounded my thoughts and filled my mind with its own desires. I slipped away, slipped between, slipped inside.

And then, bliss. And love. It grew until every bit of my body ached with joy. I was radiant. My face cracked from the weight of my large, ecstatic smile.

"Thank you so much for the gift!" I cried, grabbing Russia's hand and squeezing it. "Oh, Russia, you are so good to me!"

He laughed and gave me a quick hug.

"Now you will always know, My dear Lithuania, how I feel," he said, scrubbing my head and pulling the chain gently. His touch thrilled me. I beamed at the household, trying hard to project my joy onto them. They looked so worried, but how could they worry when they were part of Russia's household?

"Back to dinner!" Russia said, letting me go and sitting. I returned to my seat and began to eat. Slowly the household followed, the silence of the room broken only by the sound of forks against plates. My meal was a pleasure. I savored every bite, sighing with satisfaction.

"So delicious," I said. "Wouldn't you agree, Chechnya?"

She said nothing, the flickering in her eyes the only answer I received.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Bliss. Joy. Every day was filled with happiness. How could I not be happy, serving Russia? Dutifully, humming with a smiling face, I carried out my chores. Russia's coats and uniforms had to be clean and in good repair, for how could Russia woo others to the right way of thinking if he was a mess? Russia had to eat properly, for how could a country function without good meals? I took pride in every darned sock, every rubbed out scuff, every hard-boiled egg, every haircut that came out just so. And Russia praised me in his thrilling, muted way: a pat on the head, a soft smile, a gift of a tiny model Sputnik that blinked if a button was pushed. I was content. More than content, I walked through each day with the brightest of smiles.

Russia was not my only source of joy. I had so many wonderful friends! Not just friends, but family! I joined in the conversations of the Stans, adding tidbits about Russia's favorite hobbies in hopes that they may catch on. They listened intently, glancing between each other with concerned looks. No need to be concerned, I thought. Better late than never to learn a little information about their benefactor! I cut into fights between the tumultuous lovers, Azerbaijan and Armenia, chiding them for causing unrest in Russia's house. They moved away from me sullenly when I was finished, obviously chagrined for being such ungrateful houseguests. For some reason the Sisters were not so chatty. Belarus avoided me, though I think out of jealousy for my closeness to Russia. Ukraine pulled Moldova away from me more than once, which I was thankful for. Such a small girl had a habit of getting underfoot. Estonia and Latvia were very welcoming to my chattering, listening in silence as they went about their business in the kitchen. Giving each other knowing looks, as if they already guessed how glorious the Master of the house really was. They let me go on and on, sometimes lifting a head and smiling, nodding in agreement as I praised Russia's recent efforts to reach space or Russia's obvious superiority over the silly Western European nations.

But it was Georgia and her parlor that once more became a refuge for me. Georgia understood most of all the depths of my love for Russia. We would sigh together on her couches, talk animatedly about his aloof but kind air or the little tendrils of hair that stood up on his head in the winter, giving him a rakish appearance. The content and silent Chechnya presided over our discussions, sitting still next to Georgia, head down and hands folded neatly in her lap.

Georgia doted on Chechnya, dressing her in the smartest little uniforms, removing her headscarf, brushing out her long, straight black hair and plaiting it into a thick braid down her back, feeding her tiny cakes and cookies and nice teas that Russia picked up for us when visiting his friend China. Chechnya responded well to the devotion, politely accepting the treats with a small "Thank you," and daintily eating without producing crumbs.

"Are you happy?" Georgia asked her now and then, playing with her hair or pouring her more tea.

"Yes, Georgia," Chechnya replied with a small nod, her eyes distant. "I am happy."

Once when deep in discussion about the greatest man in Russian history (I was in Lenin's camp while Georgia argued passionately for Alexandr Nevsky), I caught Chechnya staring at me. So rare was it that she watched anyone in her new, happier state that I stumbled over my words and came to a halt.

"Chechnya, do you have something to add?" I asked. I chuckled. "In Lenin's favor? Or do you want to throw your hat in the ring?"

She continued to stare, inching her hand toward Georgia's lap. Squeezing Georgia's thigh.

"He is. Not. Like you," she said, her voice halting, as if the words stuck to the back of her throat. "He is. Falling. Away. Going. Look. Is he. Still there? I cannot. I cannot see him. I see you. Bits. Glimmers. Not him."

Georgia stared at Chechnya's small hand through her difficult speech, and then looked up at me, face pale. Some of the joy left her eyes, and she bit at her bottom lip. Chechnya inched her hand back to her own lap, then looked down at the floor. I glanced between the dark-haired women, bemused.

"I don't understand," I said. "Who is falling?"

"I…" Georgia paused. Her eyes brightened. She lifted her stakan and felt the side of the glass. "I think I need more tea. This seems to have gone cold. Chechnya, more tea? Lithuania?"

"Yes. Thank you," Chechnya said mechanically. I said nothing, handing Georgia my glass and shaking my head of the strange thoughts that niggled at my mind.

Oh, I was falling, falling. Every day I sunk more into the mire of bliss. Every day I lost more of myself to the madness. And I welcomed it. I welcomed the joy of every day. The small wonders like the dust motes in the sunbeams streaming through Georgia's parlor. The ecstasies, like Russia's brilliant success in the space race, first man to reach the stars of the heavens. And the deep happiness that came from being loved by such a loyal, benevolent man.

One day as I dressed Russia, helping him straighten trousers and brushing down his coat, he stopped me. Maneuvered me in front of him. Looked me up and down with his happy, twinkling eyes. My heart swelled and I blushed at the attention.

"Lithuania, you serve me with great attention as always," he said, placing a hand on my cheek. I smiled.

"Th – thank you," I stuttered. "You deserve more than what I can do, though. I try, but sometimes –"

"No, it is a thoughtful hand that keeps me well-dressed," he said with a laugh, moving his hand from my cheek and patting my shoulder. His hand rested there, and a more earnest look washed over his face.

"Are you happy?" He said. "I wanted to make sure, you see. I waited this long time, many years now if you have noticed, watching to make sure. And I think you are, for you never give me twinges…" His finger rubbed the chain around my neck. "Are you happy?"

I grabbed his hand and held it against my cheek.

"I am happier than I've ever been," I said, closing my eyes as the ache in my heart overwhelmed me.

"I am. Very glad to hear that," Russia said. He leaned over me and kissed me, and I welcomed him. Once again I knew the pleasures of Russia's bed.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Why did I never suspect Latvia and Estonia's silence for malice? I kicked myself for months after our confrontation, knowing that if I had but an inkling, so much pain could have been prevented.

It happened a year after my first night with Russia, the day that Valentina Tereshkova fell back to earth. I was chattering happily about the first female to reach the heavens, yet again crushing Mr. America's futile attempts to own the stars, as I prepared Russia's morning tray. Estonia and Latvia were quiet as usual, but less attentive. They cast each other quick glances over my shoulder, one or two that I caught. I dismissed them, for what is one or two glances to a fellow staff member in a busy kitchen? Chattering away, I almost didn't hear Estonia's whispered "Now." Latvia lept at my back, pushing me to the ground.

"What are you doing," I cried, trying to heave him off my back. He held on as I bucked, pressing his knees against my shoulders.

"This is for your own good, Lithuania," he said, his voice trembling. "Trust us."

Estonia crouched down and angled his head so that I could see his face. He held up a pair of kitchen shears.

"This should take care of your little problem," he said. "We've been debating about what to do for years, you know. It took a long time for Latvia to convince me, but he's right. Any longer with that foul thing around your neck and you may not even exist anymore, my brother."

His face and the shears moved out of view and I felt the cool touch of metal at the nape of my neck.

"What are you doing?" I cried, panicked. Again I bucked at the combined weight of the men.

"Calm down," Estonia said. "The scissors may pierce you! It'll take just a moment."

I heard the sawing of the scissors against the chain, and my heart seized as if it was being torn in two. I screamed.

There was a slam and a great crash as the kitchen table was overturned. Estonia and Latvia were jerked from my back.

"What are you doing?" Russia's voice echoed like thunder. I shakily got to my knees. Estonia and Latvia struggled in Russia's grip, Latvia hanging by an arm, Estonia by the neck, gasping for breath and struggling to keep his feet on the ground. There was no smile on Russia's face, just a toothy growl.

"How dare you?" he boomed. "You insolent scabs! Lithuania! Come!"

He stormed from the kitchen, dragging the unfortunate duo with him. I scrambled to keep up.

"Come!" Russia snarled, his cry reverberating around the mansion as he dragged the men from the dining room through a sitting room and to the front door of the Mansion. "I said Come! Where is my household!"

There was a flurry of movement as the household crowded into the front hallway and onto the stairs. There was a worried murmur that rose to a panicked pitch when people saw the bedraggled Baltics and the obviously fuming Russia.

"It must be the end for them," Uzbek whispered to Kazak. "When have you ever seen the madman without a smile?"

I shook my head, a deep memory burrowing out of my bliss: Russia at the window. Russia with his rifle. The cries of his victims.

He gazed at the household, glaring at each member in turn, then shook the sobbing Latvia and the gasping Estonia.

"These pigs," he said, voice cold, deep frown. "These pieces of filth thought they knew better than me. Me! And they attempted to steal the precious gift I gave to Lithuania."

There was a deep pause as Russia again looked over his trembling household.

"Never again will that happen. Understood? Never again! And as for you two," he shook his victims once more. "Siberia is too good. But there you will go and relearn loyalty!"

"Oh, god," Latvia whimpered, closing his eyes. Estonia shook his head slightly.

"Azerbaijan! Armenia! You will take over for the idiots," Russia snarled. "You do nothing but bicker around my house all day. Do it from the kitchens from now on."

Shock on the lovers' faces was quickly replaced by heavy blushes.

"Lithuania! The door!"

I scampered to comply with Russia's request. Latvia grabbed my arm as Russia pulled him through the door.

"Come back, Lithuania! Don't let us go through this for nothing!" He cried.

The pain and anger and panic in his voice struck me and for a moment I resurfaced. Oh, god, I resurfaced, and Russia was taking my brothers away! The closest thing I had to family, pulled from me for trying to free me. I gazed back at him, trying to let him know, trying to make him see…

"Get off!" Russia shook him loose and nodded at me. The joy returned, joy that my defender would protect me from the scoundrels who would dare try ruining my happiness. I shut the door behind them, a smile on my face, and turned to the family. They stared at me, just as shocked that such treachery lived under our roof.

"Goodness, what a mess," I said cheerfully. "Everything's good now, though, yes?"

"You might as well be dead." Tajik spat, shaking his head. "What use are you to us?"

Members of the household turned their cold eyes from me and wandered away with dark mutters until only Georgia and Chechnya remained. Georgia's face was white, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Where are you, Lithuania?" Chechnya said. She walked to me and took my hand, then pulled me up the stairs with her and down the hallway, heading to the parlor. Georgia followed close behind, not speaking. I heard her sniffling, but did not understand.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23.

The house was quiet. At least to me. In the kitchen the Lovers pretended that I was not there when I prepared Russia's breakfast. The Sisters and the Stans stayed out of sight. Still, I did not worry much about being shunned. If so many of the household were jealous of Russia's attentions towards me, I could not interfere. And anyway, I was so deep within the bliss that I couldn't feel the sting of rejection. Besides, my true friends, Georgia, Russia and Chechnya, still spoke to me. And who else did I need? I was not alone. I was never alone.

One night soon after my assault I woke up in the middle of the night, stabbing pains in my chest. I cried out, and felt pulled toward Russia, a tug so strong that I scrambled to find my pants and ran from my room without my shoes. From time to time I had to pause and clutch my chest, the pain in my heart was so strong. Outside Russia's door I ran into Georgia, wearing nothing but a short silk nightgown and holding a flashlight. She stumbled back, surprised.

"Lithuania!" she whispered. She smiled and threw her arms around me, kissing my cheek. "Welcome back, old friend! My god, it's been a while, hasn't it? You must be so shocked. He hasn't woken up since before you fell under his thrall."

I pushed Georgia gently away, confused, and pressed a hand against my chest.

"I don't understand," I said, worried. "Why do I hurt so? Is Russia okay? What can I do?"

Georgia furrowed her brows and shined the flashlight in my face. She shook her head and brushed my cheek with her small hand.

"Oh, Lithuania," she said, voice tired. "Chechnya was right. You are far gone."

Russia's door flew open. The man himself stood there in the light of his room, in red sleepwear, his face a mask of frustration and fear.

"Tell me I did not send the Baltics to Siberia," he said frantically, grabbing Georgia's hand. He caught sight of me. "Oh, no. Why is he here?"

"You think he can deny your call?" Georgia's voice was flat as she tapped my medallion. I jerked away from her. Russia let go of her hand and rubbed his eyes.

"Yes, of course," he said with a smile, shaking his head. He motioned us in, walked to his window and flopped in his desk chair. Georgia took my hand and pulled me to the bed, closing the door behind her. She sat, and I slowly joined her.

"So, what do you think, Lithuania?" Russia said, smiling sadly at me. "Have I been the monster I remember?"

Georgia placed a hand to my lips.

"Don't bother with him," she said coldly. "Look at him. He's lost."

Russia cocked his head, the smile twisting a little. He watched me as I looked back and forth between him and Georgia, bemused.

"So he is." He sighed and tapped his temple. "I imagine I am just as crazy looking when I am gone, da?"

"More so," Georgia said, smiling wryly. "And more violent. Not that you've never been violent."

Russia shrugged.

"I am a nation of conquerors," he said blandly with a grin that never reached his eyes. "How can I go against my nature? You know as well as I do. I have been under the thumb of violence before myself."

"And I before you," Georgia snapped, crossing her arms. "But this is different! When your madness takes over, the violence is all personal! Storming around like a child who lost at cards! Look at poor Chechnya! At the Baltics! Look at Lithuania! Just look at his eyes!"

"I KNOW!" Russia roared. He sprung from the chair, his cheeks red, toothy grin smeared across his face. I trembled, and my heart ached. He paced the floor.

"Every time, Georgia! You tell me every time, but what can I do? I try to take the necklace from you, but the madness swims back in! I try to fetch Chechnya while still aware, but then I find that what I really want to do is take a walk on the grounds and listen to a little music! Ah!" He threw up his hands.

"What can I do!" He kicked over his chair. It bounced against his wardrobe and rattled to the ground. I jumped, but Georgia sat placidly next to me, as if bored of this display. Russia leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. "If I try to make things right, everything goes sunny and bright until the next time I cross some terrible line. What am I to do?" He looked at his shaking hands.

"Ever since…ever since…" He covered his eyes and slid to the floor. "Bozshe moy, my own people! And the gate, I opened the gate, though that idiot ruler deserved…but Chechnya, and the gifts I cannot…and now…"

Georgia glanced at me, then pushed herself off the bed and kneeled next to Russia. She took his hands from his eyes and forced him to look at her. Her face softened as she squeezed his hands.

"Every time you act without orders from your boss, the anger will grow among your people," she said. "They used to blame you for the acts of your boss. Well! Now they'll place the blame squarely on you, my love. And whether the madness flees on its own or is beaten from you, it will end."

Russia smiled at her and shook his head, eyes watering.

"I will have to die," he said. "I will have to end, Georgia. What I have done, even in madness…there is no coming back."

Georgia scowled and smacked him.

"Don't say such things!" she said, anger tingeing her voice. "Germany's been quite unpleasant recently if you remember, and he was stone sober! Yet, the community welcomes him –"

"His boss, Georgia." Russia rubbed his cheek and shook his head again. "It was his boss who did such things, not Germany. I have no master in which to place all the blame. Not that they are not mad, mind you, but are they mad because it is in their nature, or is it me? Am I…do I cause my people to suffer?"

He broke down, tears running down his cheeks wiped quickly away by a sleeve only to reappear. He sobbed, and I sobbed, my heart breaking, unable to understand this sadness. Georgia looked back at me, eyes wide, fighting tears, holding her locket. She hugged Russia, and he pulled her into his bulk, tears falling into her hair.

Suddenly a wave of bliss washed over me. I sighed in delight. Georgia gasped and pushed away from Russia.

"No, you can't go yet!" she said frantically, shaking him. "That was shorter than before! You must stay, Russia! Stay for me! For him!" She pointed her slender finger at me.

Russia cocked his head at her, eyes already gaining a glimmer.

"It is too much." He sighed and gave her a slight smile. "Too much, Georgia. I am sorry." The glow increased. He kissed her hand. "I cannot."

"No, I –!"

The bliss enveloped me. All was well again. Russia smiled cheerily at Georgia, blinking what was left of tears from his glittering eyes.

"Hello again," he said. "You look so angry. Are you okay, my sunshine?"

Georgia scrambled to her feet, her face twisting. She tugged at the locket.

"I will not join you again," she breathed. She glanced at me. "I will not be lost again, for his sake at least, you coward!"

She stomped her foot, grabbed a vase of summer flowers from Russia's desk and threw it at the wall. It shattered, glass falling to the carpet. Russia raised an eyebrow and blinked his glassy eyes.

"Why do my things get broken when people are angry with me?" he said, shrugging. "I cannot have nice things."

Georgia shook her head, grabbed my hand and dragged me from Russia's room.

"Sleep well, my loves!" Russia called after us.

"Oh, isn't it wonderful?" I chirped. "He's happy again!"

"Oh, yes," Georgia snarled, jerking me to keep my pace even with hers. "So very happy."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

I awoke in Georgia's parlor, bleary, head aching, as if I had too much to drink the night before. The sun was shining in my eyes through the giant windows, filtering through the trees and dappling my skin. I sat up with a start, then fell back to the couch, groaning.

"Ah, you're awake," Georgia said. She sat on the couch adjacent from me, prim in her uniform, embroidering a boarder on a light blue scarf. Her eyes were ringed with black, but they were sharp. "Forgive me, but last night you kept insisting on going back to Russia's rooms. So I took the liberty of giving you something to help you sleep. I have tea ready for you."

She nodded to a mug on the table next to me. I grabbed it and gulped it down, clearing the cotton taste from my mouth.

"Why am I here?" I croaked.

She did not answer. Instead she made a final tug on her thread, bit it through with her teeth, and spread the scarf on her lap.

"Ah, lovely," she said, smiling.

"I need to go," I said, trying once again to stand. And once again my head began to pound and I fell back to the couch. "Russia's breakfast, his uniforms…"

"Are all taken care of," Georgia said with a light tone. "Azerbaijan was most helpful this morning." She looked up at me. Her eyes crackled. "And every morning. You are no longer Russia's manservant."

I gasped.

"Wha -? Why?"

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Georgia hopped up from the couch as the Stans shuffled into the parlor, followed by Armenia and Azerbaijan, Ukraine and Moldova, Belarus and finally Chechnya. Chechnya closed the door behind her.

"Everyone is here," she said with her monotone voice.

"Wonderful." Georgia smiled as she walked to Chechnya, pulled her to my couch and sat her down. Georgia took Chechnya's braid and wrapped it up around the girl's head. Then Georgia took a few hairpins from the lapel of her hat and pinned Chechnya's braid in place. Finally, she loosely wrapped the blue scarf around Chechnya's head until only a bit of bangs and her moon face was visible.

"There you are," she said, touching Chechnya's scarred cheek. "You are lovely as ever."

Slowly Chechnya looked up into Georgia's eyes. Her mouth twitched into a small smile.

"You are back," she said.

Georgia nodded.

"I am."

Armenia coughed.

"Excuse me, but what are we doing here?" she said, her arms crossed. "I've got a lot of chores left for the day, and I don't see why we have to crowd into this traitor's den."

"Ah, yes." Georgia stood, smoothing her skirt, and smiled to the assembled household. "I've asked all of you here to offer you a wager."

There were glances between the household.

"Huh." Kazakh snorted. "Why should any of us listen to you? You're the despot's whore."

Georgia lifted her chin, smile never leaving her face.

"Now that isn't a very nice thing to say. I rather like traitor better." She gazed at each of the household in turn. "It is time to end this wretched regime," she said. "I am tired of fear. I am tired of subjugation. And I am tired of madness. It is time to break with Russia."

There were murmurs between the household.

"Just what do you propose?" Tajik spoke up from the middle of his brothers. "That we all be shipped off to Siberia like Estonia and Latvia? Become little robots like Chechnya?"

There was an angry rumble from the Stans. Georgia held up a hand and the rumbles ceased.

"I propose," she said, moving behind my couch and placing a hand on my shoulder, "that we use what we have at hand."

"What, using Russia's little toy as bait?" Azerbaijan laughed meanly. "You ARE as crazy. The great idiot will flay us alive!"

"He isn't bait!" Georgia snapped. She pulled my necklace free and held up the medallion. I cringed. "You all know the power Russia has over him! And none of you, NOT ONE, knows how strong that power is!" She held up her own locket, the gold winking in the dappled sunlight. "You don't know how difficult it is to fight! How hard you must be to climb out of that insanity! Lithuania is a victim twice over; a victim of a crazed, loyal lover and a victim of his loving heart."

She let both the medallion and the locket fall from her hands.

"That you blame either of us for our entrapment is a sin," she said coldly. "I can forgive your placing blame on me. But Lithuania! You blame Lithuania, who is nothing but kindness! Perhaps if you had joined the Baltics in their escape attempt, he would be free right now!"

There was an uncomfortable shuffling in the crowd.

"Then…what do you propose, Georgia?" Ukraine said quietly. She stepped forward, Moldova clinging to her sleeve.

"What are you doing!" Belarus hissed, grabbing Ukraine's arm. "She speaks of revolt!"

"I know!" Ukraine snapped. She shook off Bela's arm. "And…I love Little Brother, I do! But…but his insanity. It is too much, Bela! I cannot live with it any longer!"

She squared her chin and nodded at Georgia.

"I wish to know what you are planning."

There was silence from the household. Slowly they began to nod.

"Yes…nothing could be worse…I want to hear this plan…what shall we do?"

Georgia smiled.

"The plan is simple," she said. "Break Russia. And to do that, we keep Lithuania from him. He lives for what he loves. And I promise that he can no longer have me!" Her voice shook a little. She paused, coughed, fluffed her hair, then continued. "But Lithuania is still deep under. So we must keep him away from Russia."

A few of the Stans chuckled.

"What will keep Russia away from him?" Uzbek said. "Can Russia not simply take him? And if we try to take the medallion –"

"No one will touch the medallion," Georgia said quickly. "I fear that if the tie is broken between the two, Russia may fall even further into madness. No, our power will be twofold: our numbers, and Lithuania's happiness."

Armenia cocked her head.

"And what will happen if we keep the little brainwashed creature happy?" she said.

Georgia's smile grew wide.

"I figured something out long ago, though I gave up my fight before I had a chance to use my knowledge." She walked to her bookcase and took a small package wrapped in brown paper from the shelf.

"You see, Lithuania and I can feel Russia's emotions. His joy. His pain. His anger. His emotions are our emotions. And, consequently, OUR emotions are HIS. Now, his emotions are strengthened by his madness. But, what if we let Lithuania experience true joy? His own joy?" she handed me the brown package. "What will happen?"

She leaned over the couch, her lips pressing against my ear.

"A gift for you, my dear," she whispered, kissing my cheek. "Open it."

I looked around the room, confused, worried. I hesitated, then unwrapped the package, letting the brown paper fall to the floor.

It was a book, a book of old fairy tales printed in Lithuanian. I opened it, shuffling through the pages. Words popped out at me: _once upon a time...the queen said…and down he fell!...eyes like buttons…_

"This," I whispered. "I remember. You saved it from the fire. You…kept it hidden from…" my voice cracked. "Thank you."

My heart swelled. Tears welled in my eyes. I rubbed them away with a hand.

"Why am I crying, Georgia?" I said, bemused, as the tears dripped down my cheeks and stained the yellowed pages of my old book.

The door slammed open. Russia staggered into the parlor, hand on his chest. He looked around the room, spied me, tried to make his way through the crowd. Georgia nodded at the Stans and the lovers. They blocked me from Russia's view.

"What? What is happening?" Russia stammered, trying to shove through. The group held. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong." Georgia moved from behind the couch and pushed the group aside. She placed a hand on Russia's chest. "What do you feel?"

"I – Lithuania –"

"Yes, and what do you feel?"

Russia looked down at her, a sweet, confused smile crinkling his shining eyes.

"He is happy."

"Yes, he is," Georgia said. She stepped forward. Russia stepped back. "He is very happy. Do you want him to be happy?"

"Oh, yes," Russia breathed. Another step forward. Another step back.

"That is good," Georgia nodded. "And how do we keep Lithuania happy?"

"I –" Another step forward, another step back. "I will keep him happy."

"I don't think so." Georgia shook her head. Step forward. Step back. "Has he ever felt so happy before?"

Russia's smile faltered. Step forward. Step back.

"He has not," Georgia said firmly. Step forward. Step back. And Russia was beyond the doorframe. "But don't worry, my love. We will keep him happy."

She jumped up on her tiptoes, kissed Russia's lips, hopped back into the parlor and closed the door on Russia. There was a pause. Everyone held their breath in the silence. Then, the echo of Russia's slow, plodding retreat came from the hallway. Georgia let go of her breath. Surprised smiles were exchanged between the household.

Belarus looked frantically around the room.

"You are all…all…!" She fought her way through the group, and through open the door. "Big Brother! I'm coming!" she cried as she ran after Russia.

Georgia swung the door closed behind her and smiled.

"Are we all in agreement, then?"

The household surrounded Georgia, calling out ideas and giving praise. I looked down at my gift, still bemused at my joy, an unshakable smile on my face. Chechnya placed a hand over mine, greeting my smile with a wide one of her own.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

I pined for Russia. My heart ached for him. Every day that I spent away from him I grew more distraught, and it was difficult to do more than curled up in Georgia's parlor and ache. The household would not let me sleep in my own bed, passing me from room to room. They never left me alone, handing me off from group to group throughout the day. I was not allowed even to sit by him at dinner. I sat between Georgia and Chechnya while a different member of the household took my usual spot every evening. It was torture, and from the few glances that reached me from Russia, I knew he was suffering as well.

Or was it all his suffering? Was my ache simply a reflection of Russia's desires? I wonder now, because while I did ache, a seed took root the day Georgia returned my book. And every day I spent away from Russia, the tendrils of that seed grew and the ache was easier to bear.

The household did its best to tend that little seed within me.

"Make your favorite meal," Armenia said one day, handing me a set of bowls and pushing me toward the pantry. "Anything you wish."

"W-well," I stuttered. "I like palmeni…"

"Puh, Palmeni!" Azerbaijan shook his head and slapped my back. "What do you crave more than anything? What makes your mouth water just thinking about it?"

"Well…I have not eaten…Kugelis…in a long time…"

"Then Kugelis it is!" Armenia said. "Come, we'll help you! Ah, what exactly is Kugelis?"

"A potato pudding," I said, gaining enthusiasm. I entered the pantry and pulled out a bag of potatoes, then searched the shelves. "It has bacon and eggs – we have both, don't we? I'm sure we do. Milk, of course. And we'll need some preserves. Maybe applesauce?" I popped my head out of the pantry. "Do we have applesauce?"

Azerbaijan's face was a mask of horror. Armenia shot him an annoyed look.

"But Armenia, it's like a heart attack waiting to –"

Armenia elbowed him and smiled at me.

"I'm not sure about applesauce, but maybe the preserves? Let's look together."

While the lovers helped me prepare the dishes of my homeland, the Stans tried with difficulty to engage me in conversation beyond Russia.

"Well, Russia's favorite is a toss up between Gogol and Pushkin," I said. I sat in the middle of their circle, off in the sitting room that they long ago claimed as their own.

"Yes, but who is YOUR favorite writer?" Uzbek said, exasperated. "Who do YOU enjoy?"

"I bet it is some obscure Lithuanian poet," Turkmen said, elbowing Kirghiz.

"Well, actually." I blushed a little. "When I was at Mr. America's house I read a lot of…of H.G. Wells. I really like The Time Machine."

The Stans looked at each other, surprised, then laughed. Kazakh nudged me.

"A science fiction fan! Ha! Have you had a chance to read anything like that lately?"

"Well, not lately." I looked down at my knees. "Russia has a more literary mind."

"Oh, no, no, no." Uzbek shook his head. "We will find you something juicy. Oh, if you like Wells, wait until you read Ray Bradbury! I managed to get East Germany to smuggle me in a few things last time he visited…"

Georgia, Chechnya and Ukraine came up with the task of keeping my Lithuanian sharp. We sat in Georgia's parlor and they listening as I read to them from the book of fairy tales.

"That book is getting old," Georgia said one day. "Read this aloud." She tossed me a picture book of Hansel and Gretel. "I'm sorry, but this is all I could scrounge up right now. Trust me, I'll find more for you."

She did. Picture books became translated novels and poems and classics. My hands shook the day I held a copy of _S is for Space_ in Lithuanian.

Russia was always on the edge of this commotion. He stood in doorways, watched down halls, paused as a group of us would pass him by. Always it seemed, for a moment, that he would join us. Always he thought better of it and plodded away, head down. From time to time at dinner he would look up from his plate, smile at me and ask:

"Are you happy, Lithuania?"

Always Georgia cut in.

"How do you feel, Russia?" She said curtly.

Russia sighed deeply and looked down at his plate again.

"You are happy," he mumbled.

How long did this go on? How long did the household use me as a means to disturb Russia? I am unsure. But I know that as they pressed me more and more to remember my homeland, the seedling within me grew strong and stubborn, rooted in my own happiness. And there came a time that my own thoughts broke through the surface of my mind. Oh, the ache and the love and the bliss were still there, threatening to swallow me once more. But from time to time whips of ideas flickered in my head, and I knew them to be my own thoughts.

"Everyone has been good to me," my thoughts whispered. "Whether to ruin Russia or because they actually care for me, does it matter? I have not been this happy in a long time."

"It matters! It matters!" Cried the mad thoughts surrounding my place of joy. "They are using you for their own desires! Stay here and be truly happy!"

Yet again my thoughts were hidden away by the cloud of bliss. But they could not be rubbed out. The seed remained, steadfast.

And Russia knew. He knew his hold on me was slipping. What else can explain how he conceded defeat?

One bright afternoon in late summer all of the household but Bela and Russia were sitting in the garden for lunch. It was Georgia's idea to have a picnic. She passed around breads and cheeses and wines, and the conversation grew lively.

"And he was such a rake!" Georgia said, as the rest of us laughed, pouring the wine liberally. "Persia! Ha! You should have seen how he was around Mother Greece. Like a lovesick puppy! 'Oh, Mother Greece, wouldn't you like to live here in Persia? I promise you'll be the most beautiful jewel in my harem!' As if Greece would just trip along after him after such a proclamation, la-ta-ta!"

"I thought Greece and Persia were constantly at odds," Armenia said, gasping for air.

"Oh, yes, but not out of anger on Persia's side," Georgia said, laughing. "Every rejection made him that much more determined! 'Greece, see these ships?' 'Greece, you'll come now that you've seen my horde!' And every time, Greece smacked him and sent him away, tail between his legs!"

"Excuse me."

The laughter stopped abruptly. We all looked to the voice. Russia stood a few lengths from us, smiling sadly.

"That man can be very light on his feet," Azerbaijan whispered, eyes wide.

"I do not wish to interrupt your gathering," Russia said. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Please, continue."

The household continued to stare at Russia, unsure of what to do.

"Well, then." Russia coughed. He stepped to the side, revealing two figures behind him. I squinted, and slowly stood.

"Latvia?" I whispered. "Estonia?"

My two brothers walked hesitatingly forward, leaning a bit on each other. Their clothes were crumpled and worn, but in fairly good repair. Russia eased behind them, and pushed them into a stumbling walk.

"Here you are," he said. He stopped, a shoulder on each man. "For you, Lithuania. For your…for your happiness."

He turned without another word and stalked away, head down. I looked the Baltics up and down. They did not meet my eyes. The joy inside me, my joy, burst free from the false bliss, and I felt the scales fall from my eyes. I smiled and threw myself at Estonia, squeezing him tight, then grabbed Latvia's arm and pulled him into the hug. I laughed and laughed as my joy bloomed and the insanity stilled within my mind.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

The household plied the Baltics with bread, wine, cakes, tea, everyone talking at once as they stuffed themselves.

"What was it like?...good lord, you two are thin…how can it be?...you seem less ruined than I thought…"

Estonia held up a hand, finishing off a glass of wine in a glup.

"It wasn't as bad as we feared it would be," she said, grabbing another piece of bread. "But it wasn't pleasant."

'We started in a prison," Latvia whispered. He shuddered. "If we had to stay there as long as we were away…" he made a sidelong glance at Chechnya, and placed a hand on hers. "It's a wonder that you survived."

Estonia nodded.

"The beatings, the labor, the starvation. Good god, was it wonderful to leave there."

"Leave?" Georgia said quickly, passing around more cheese. "How on earth were you allowed to leave?"

"Well, this is the strange thing," Estonia said, nodding thanks as he took a few slices of cheese. "Russia's boss stepped in."

"Russia came with his boss on his heels," Latvia said, still squeezing Chechnya's hand. "The boss was very angry. Kept yelling how it wasn't allowed. Forced Russia to remove us, though Russia refused to bring us back here. So the boss compromised, and we were made to stay in a Siberian settlement."

"THAT was a step up," Estonia said, taking another glass of wine. "No beatings. Just labor and small rations. And, jumal küll, the boredom! Do you know what there is to do in Siberia? Absolutely nothing! If not for Latvia's bumbling, I would have gone mad as Russia from the boredom."

"Bumbling?" Latvia elbowed Estonia and laughed. "You are the one who couldn't keep a fire going to save his life! That stove went out more times than –"

"Well, if you had done a better job keeping the wood dry," Estonia grumbled.

"Why?" The group looked at Chechnya. Her face was scrunched up, and her eyes flickered. "Why did. The boss step in? Why with you?"

The Baltics exchanged a look. Estonia cleared his throat.

"Well, the boss Russia had then, well. He wasn't nearly as crazed as the boss that was around when…well, when –"

"Your imprisonment happened under a much more accommodating boss," Latvia said quietly. "He was a bad one, Chechnya. Maybe he wanted it as much as –"

"I see." Chechnya broke in. She pulled her hand away from Latvia. The flickering in her eyes grew more intense. There was a pause in the conversation.

"Well, it is good to see you both in good health, if a little worse for wear," Georgia said, smiling. "We all expected the worst."

Estonia shrugged and continued munching on cheese. Latvia stared at the blanket, fingering a loose thread. He looked up quickly.

"Was it worth it?" he cocked his head at me. The rest of the household exchanged smiles and knowing looks.

"As a matter of fact, we've been playing with Russia's little toy for quite a while now," Azerbaijan said, patting my shoulder. "And you should see Russia! He's like a lost child."

"There's been quite a bit of progress," Tajik said. "Lithuania hasn't spoken of Russia in a long time! It's almost as if he's got his mind back. I mean, the way he greeted you!"

"Almost," I said, smiling at him. "Though, of course, Russia is still here." I tapped my medallion.

The whole household turned and looked at me.

"Did you just…speak on your own without prompting?" Uzbek sputtered.

"And it wasn't about Russia," Kirghiz muttered to Kazakh.

"I – I think I did," I said, testing my words. "Yes, this very much feels like my own thoughts. Still, it's…difficult."

"Wait a moment!" Turkmen grabbed my shoulders and peered into my eyes. Azerbaijan pushed him away and did the same. Soon the Stans and the lovers were fighting amongst themselves to get a look at me. Georgia stood and dragged me from the blanket.

"Enough!" she cried. The household went still. She pulled me to my feet, brushed me down, and pulled my head down until it was level with hers. She furrowed her brows as she looked into my eyes. I blinked. She smiled.

"They still shine," she said. "But the shine is far dimmer than it was when we first began. Goodness, it must have been diminishing so gradually that we all simply didn't notice!"

I straightened, and smiled at her. Then I turned my smile on the household. Latvia jumped up and grabbed my arm.

"So, it was worth it!" He said, laughing. "You are back! It worked!"

"Well, I am getting better," I said, draping an arm over his shoulder. "I still feel Russia's mood. But the part of me that is me," I placed a hand over my heart. "It will never be washed away again. And it is because of you, my brother." Latvia beamed. "And you Estonia." Estonia rolled his eyes, but a small smile played at his lips. "And all of you, really." I felt the tears come to my eyes. "If not for you…I thank you. I thank all of you."

There was a moment of happy silence. I wiping away a few tears, the household grinning at me and at each other.

"Well! Georgia said, pulling Latvia and I back on the blanket. "Let's continue with this picnic!"

There was a small cheer, and we chattered and ate and laughed our way through the afternoon and late into the evening.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

One by one the household drifted off to the Mansion, some drunk, some merely tired, until it was just Chechnya, Georgia and I picking up the remains of our picnic turned welcome home party. Georgia and I joked together as we stashed the blanket and empty glasses and plates in the kitchen. Chechnya quietly trailed behind, face marked by a small frown.

"Goodness!" Georgia yawned and stretched her way up the stairs and down the hall to her parlor. "I am spent! Lithuania, if you wish I can set you up something on one of my couches. I forgot to ask around for a place for you to sleep –"

Chechnya grabbed her hand.

"Look," she whispered, pointing to the parlor door. There was a light shining from under the doorframe. Georgia and I exchanged a quick look. She opened the door and let it swing inward without entering the room.

Russia sat on a couch near the record player, surrounded by stacks of books. He seemed absorbed in a novel, his feet propped up on a small table in front of him. I glanced at the bookshelf. It was empty. A new Russian waltz played on the record player, and Russia hummed along to the fast minor tune.

"You know, I have looked through every book," Russia said without looking up from his novel. "And I cannot find even one printed in Russian. Very strange."

Georgia stormed into her parlor, brows furrowed, fists clenched.

"What are you doing here?"

Russia looked up from his book and smiled.

"This is my home," he said. "I go where I wish in my home."

A spark of memory jolted me.

"Let's go, Georgia," I muttered, following her and taking her hand. "Let's just go back to my room."

She shook me off.

"Well, this is very rude," she said. "Look at the mess you made! What, am I to pick up all the books you've scattered around my room?"

Russia moved his feet from the table, straightened and closed the book.

"I should take every one of these and have them burned," he said mildly, shaking the book at Georgia. "Every one in Georgian or Lithuanian, hmmm? Where did you find them all?"

He tossed the book on a pile with its brothers.

"But I will not." He shrugged. "If these books make you happy, then you keep them."

Georgia shook a little, glancing between me and Russia. She crossed her arms.

"If you came here for Lithuania," she said. Russia held up a hand.

"No, not for Lithuania." He gave me a sad smile. "There is nothing I can do for Lithuania." He stood, turned up the record player's speakers, and crossed the room to Georgia. He leaned over her, grinning. "But you, Georgia. There is something I can do for you."

She stepped back, her eyes fearful. I felt a wave of bliss wash over me. My own joy was steady, but Georgia cringed and her face softened.

'Please, let's leave, Georgia," I said quickly.

"Lithuania is very happy. I can feel this." Russia placed a hand on his chest. "But you, Georgia. You are so sad." He moved his hand to her cheek, gazing into her eyes. "So very angry. You do not like being so angry, do you."

Another wave of bliss hit me, and still I stood strong. Georgia gasped.

"No, I don't," she whispered.

The false, mad joy grew, and I saw stars. I battled for my mind, my joy an anchor. But Georgia was frozen, like a mouse entranced by a snake. The wall of anger she built the night Russia resurfaced and that kept her steady for so long was chipping away. I grabbed her hand and pulled her away.

"We are going now," I said frantically, pulling her stumbling toward the door.

"No," Russia said simply, his small smile never leaving his face. A few paces, and he was upon us. He wrenched Georgia from my grasped and shoved me against the wall. I hit hard and crumpled to the floor. Georgia he dragged to the center of the parlor.

"You will be happy again," he said. And I was flooded with ecstasy, gasping against the onslaught, my tiny lump of joy battered by the assault. Georgia shook, hands against her chest and pulling at the locket. The record skipped, and Georgi Sviridov's "Snowstorm" played.

Russia closed his eyes and smiled.

"Do you remember when we danced?" he said, sweeping Georgia up and leading her around the room. Georgia stumbled along for a moment before picking out the steps, following Russia's feet across the room. Her eyes shone.

"You are…quite good," she said, voice flat.

Something broke. The assault within me eased. The bliss backed down as if content. I breathed deeply, pushing up the wall. Georgia smiled up at Russia, and he at her with his sparkling eyes.

"Oh, Georgia." My voice cracked.

"You monster!" Chechnya bolted from the doorway, leapt over a stack of books and threw herself into Russia. Russia stumbled back, Georgia with him, and all three fell into a heap on the floor. Chechnya stood quickly, and kicked at Russia's head. Russia blocked her, grabbed her leg and tripped her to the floor. He staggered up, picked Georgia up and sat her gently on a couch.

"I will return," he said, kissing her.

He turned on Chechnya then, picking her up and throwing her over a shoulder. She kicked at his chest, but he ignored her screeching as he stalked over to me and grabbed my arm. He pulled me out the door and dropped Chechnya next to me. She landed with a thump, groaning. Russia smiled and gently closed the door to the parlor. The lock clicked.

Chechnya looked up at me from the floor, her face crunched in anger, her eyes sparking.

"Chechnya," I said. "You –"

Chechnya stood and kicked the door to the parlor.

"That great beast! That slimy snake! That disgusting, pig-faced bear!" she screamed. "Come on!"

She ran down the hallway, and I followed.

"Wake UP!" she cried. "Wake UP! Everyone, UP!"

Doors opened and bleary faces appeared. The Stans straggled from their rooms, the lovers popped their heads out of their door. Latvia dashed from his room, running into Estonia. Bela cracked her door a bit, snorted and closed it again. Ukraine quickly left her room, closing the door gently behind her.

"What is it?" she hissed. "You'll wake Moldova!"

"Russia has stolen Georgia," Chechnya said, shaking, her scrunched, angry face whipping around the group.

"Hey, you –" Tajik began.

"Not now!" Chechnya cried. "I want her back! We are getting her back!"

The household glanced at each other.

"I don't know…" Azerbaijan began.

"I do," I said, crossing my arms and staring him down. "We will get her back."

There was a pause. Latvia nodded and stood by me.

"We have to," he said. "We have to help her."

A small murmur spread and became an angry cry. Yes! We will! We will rescue Georgia! We marched to Georgia's parlor, our anger swelling and carrying us along. Russia stood in the hallway in front of the door, hands in the pockets of his greatcoat. The group paused, members in the back running into those in the front.

"So," he said with a grin. "You have all come for Georgia."

I stepped forward.

"Please, Russia," I said, my voice shaking. "Let her go. She doesn't want this. And she doesn't want you."

A deep anger seeped into the bliss I kept at bay. Russia's cheeks went red.

"I cannot," he said. "She is my sunshine. She is light, and green things, and wine, and music. She is sunflowers." He dipped his head, his shining eyes peaking through his hair. "And I love her. If you refuse me, dear friend, then I will have her. Of course," he shot me a wicked, pointed, mad grin. "You can fight me for her."

I shared a look at the household, then smiled at Russia.

"Okay, then."

A look of surprise blinked on Russia's face as all five Stans ran at him at once. He shifted his stance right before they jumped him, trying to pull him to the ground. Russia stood fast. He grabbed Tajik by the shirt and whipped him into the wall to his left, flipped Kazakh over his shoulder, where he fell heavily to the ground behind him, kneed Uzbek in the stomach and kicked him away.

Azerbaijan, Armenia and Chechnya joined the fray, Armenia and Chechnya grabbing a leg each, Azerbaijan jumping on Russia's back. Turkmen and Kirghiz pulled at his arms. Russia threw himself forward, flipping Azerbaijan to the floor, then whipped his arms together, throwing Turkmen and Kirghiz into each other. They fell in a heap on top of Azerbaijan. He wrenched Chechnya off one leg, throwing her into Tajik, who was staggering toward him. They fell against the left wall. He kicked at Armenia until she let go and hid her face.

While he was distracted with Armenia, I threw my shoulder into his chest. Estonia grabbed him by the waist, while Latvia kicked at his knees. Russia stumbled back into the right wall, but quickly recovered, picking me up by the shirt, leaving my legs dangling. He kicked back at Latvia, catching him square in the chest. Latvia gasped and stumbled over Kazakh, falling to the floor. He yanked Estonia from his waist and twisted Estonia's arm behind his back until he cried out, then let him go. Estonia fell with a thud. Russia slammed me against the wall, feet still dangling.

"Enough!" he bellowed, still grinning that wicked grin. He let go of me and I dropped to the floor against the wall. Ukraine whimpered, hiding her eyes from the brawl. There were groans from the wounded fighters scattered across the hall. Russia stood up straight, brushed down his coat and returned his hands to his pockets.

"Let us make a deal, da?" he said, the grin softening into a bland smile. "I have spoken to the boss, and he seems to welcome this idea. Perhaps I let you have your languages again, how does that sound? Perhaps you can visit your homes regularly, maybe convince your people to open shops, maybe trade a little with other countries. Does this all sound good?"

The household was slowly returning to its feet, members nursing bruises and scratches. We glared at Russia, but said nothing.

"This is all in your best interest," he said with a smile. "All for your own good! And in return, you stay calm. You do not fight. And you leave Georgia to me."

He leaned over me and held out a hand.

"You do not speak to her. You do not hide her away. You do not visit her. She is mine, and mine alone, understood?"

"And if we don't agree?" I spat at him. He smiled, a bit of the grin returning.

"Then you do not agree," he said. "And we fight again. And then you will have more than bruises."

I glowered at him a moment, then took his hand. He lifted me up, and brushed me down.

"There, that is better!" he said with a bright smile. His face softened. "I am glad you are happy, Lithuania."

He backed away from me, opened the door to the parlor, flashed me one last smile, and closed the door. I kicked the wall.

"Back to square one?" Estonia said, rubbing his arm.

"No." I looked around the injured group. "We make the best of it. Russia wants us to go home and play house in our own countries? Then let's go." I stormed off down the hallway. "Let's at least make our people happy."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

I went home. We all did, even the clingy Belarus. I know it seems like such a selfish thing to do, when one's friend is lost and when it is obvious that the "compromise" is more a circus put on to appease the starving peasants. But I had not been home in decades and some in the household had been gone from their homes for even longer. Chechnya in particular trembled when she reached the boarder of her lands.

"I nearly cried," she said to me later. "It had been so long, Lithuania. I was afraid that I wouldn't know my own home. But the smells, the tastes, the wind – everything was familiar. It was always home."

I shared her sentiments. Though I was not gone as long as she (nearly two centuries!), I knew that the world changed drastically since last I set foot on my plains, my hills, my lakes, my coast. And yes, there were differences. I was especially annoyed to find the typical Soviet bloc apartments marring the lovely architecture of my cities. I can't imagine that Russia was very fond of the look, though he would never say. To think, the solid beauty of the Kremlin, the whimsy of St. Basil's, the French esthetic of the Winter Palace; all that splendor trickling down to those towering, boxy, concrete aberrations. Soviet efficiency! And there it was, mucking up my skylines.

Still, it felt good to see my home again. I visited my people, swam in the Baltic, stuffed myself with blynai and apple. To my relief, the constant buzzing of Russia's insanity was muted in my homeland. I felt firm in my own mind, clearer than I had been since that wretched medallion was wrapped around my neck.

I knew when it was time to return to Moscow. I imagine that the others were given notices, or called on telephones in a sane, rational manner. I needed no such notice. The ache of loneliness on the edges of my joy was enough to know that Russia wanted me back at the Mansion. Like a dog to a whistle, I responded, reluctantly packing my things and crossing back into Russia's borders.

There was a great crush in the Mansion's foyers when I returned. People were laughing, red-cheeked, sharing their travel stories with each other. I was surprised to find everyone so good-humored on their return. Perhaps my happiness was blanketed by the hum of Russia's emotions flaring up within me again. It gave me headache, reawakening the battle once more, and I plodded to my room with my things without greeting anyone.

Latvia knocked on my door as I was putting away my things.

"How was your visit?" he said, cheerfully leaning over my desk chair.

I shrugged as I folded my shirts.

"Good, I suppose," I said. "Though I wish it was less 'visit' and more 'return.'" I picked up my shirts, pulled out a drawer, and laid them out carefully.

"So, what do we do now?" Latvia said, his voice going low.

I turned and looked at him, confused.

"What do you mean, 'what do we do now'?"

"About Georgia," Latvia hissed. "The Stans are going on and on about it. What you plan to do. Azerbaijan and Estonia are sure that you haven't planned anything, but Armenia and Chechnya keep thumping for you, and I –"

"Wait." I sat heavily on my bed, eyes wide. "You think I – I have a plan prepared to rescue Georgia?"

"Oh," Latvia was crestfallen. He hung his head. "So you don't? I thought…well we all thought, after that night…"

I furrowed my brows, unsure of how to respond, absolutely taken aback.

"Well, I have nothing planned right now," I said. Latvia's head sunk lower. "But – but don't share that with anyone! I still haven't figured out the full situation. We need to know how Georgia is. And we need to figure out a way to lure her back from Russia's bliss."

Latvia looked up and smiled.

"I knew you had something brewing!" he said, bounding to my door. He saluted me. "Okay, reconnaissance on Georgia, check! I'll go tell the others!"

Off he ran. I closed my door behind him.

_Oh damn,_ I thought. _I think I've accidently become a leader._

Dinner was much more jovial than it should have been for a bunch of captive states called back to their prison. Many a joke and happy tale was told over the soup course. Russia sat at the head of the table beaming at us, not seeing the conspiratorial glances and grins passed around the table. More than one wink came my way. I tried with difficulty to keep my hand from shaking and appear more confident than I felt. I gave a sidelong glance to Georgia. She was smiling as she ate, her glassy eyes reflecting the burning and shimmering madness that licked at my anchor.

I sighed and turned my attention to the handsome young man that sat to Russia's right. He did seem confident, as if he knew deep down that nothing could defeat him. His dark hair was combed back and set in place, and he had a short, neatly trimmed beard that covered his chin and upper lip. He wore a linen shirt, sharply ironed, with an embroidered vest on top. He politely declined the wine, and ate his soup in the most refined fashion, tipping his bowl forward as he reached the end. Tajik, who sat to my left, elbowed me.

"You see that?" he said with a wink. "Afghanistan. Always has been very la-de-da."

"Afghanistan," I muttered. He noticed me eyeing him, and gave me a slight smile and nod. I nodded back, and looked down at my bowl.

Russia rose from his seat. The talking ceased.

"It is good to see everyone so happy after their vacation," he said with a smile. "I hope everyone had a good time. And I hope that more vacations can be granted in the future."

His violet eyes flashed. Chechnya, on my right, squeezed my hand. Afghanistan glanced around the table, then back at Russia, thoughtful.

"Anyway, I would like to welcome our new friend Afghanistan to our table," he held out an indicating hand to the handsome man. "I have agreed to help him with a few…difficulties. I hope you will make him feel at home while he is here."

Afghanistan smiled his small smile.

"Thank you, Russia," he said quietly, head high. "I am pleased to be welcomed in your home. I look forward to my short visit."

There were raised eyebrows and amused looks shared around the table. Russia said nothing in return, simply smiled, sat back down and continued eating. Afghanistan glanced again around the table, confused.

Later, Estonia, Latvia and I chatted about our vacations as we cleared the dinner table, Azerbaijan and Armenia joining in from the kitchen. I didn't notice Afghanistan leaning against the wall of the kitchen, listening in on us, until he grabbed me and pulled me aside into the pantry.

"Oh! Uh, hello," I said, pulling the string to the overhead light. I held out a hand. "I don't think we've ever had the chance to meet. I'm –"

"Lithuania, I know," Afghanistan said, his voice low. He clasped my hand in his and shook it firmly. "Turkmen and Uzbek told me. You are the leader of this house in Russia's stead, yes?"

"Oh! Uh, I suppose," I said, blushing. "I don't think of myself that way, though."  
>"Hmmm." He furrowed his brows. "No need to be modest. I am simply looking for the truth. Now, why the strange reaction when I said 'short visit'? I am still getting nothing but laughter from my neighbors. They told me to seek you out."<p>

"Oh, that." I sighed and sat on a shelf of preserves, looking up at Afghanistan's serious face. "Well, you're in Russia's house."

'Yes? And?"

"And you have your own room?"

"Well –"

"And Russia never told you exactly when you'll be going home yet? How long your visit will last?"

Afghanistan went still. His eyes narrowed.

"My difficulties may take some time to solve," he said defensively. I held up my hands.

"Yes, of course," I said. "That's how it starts sometimes."

"Are you…are you implying that I am a captive here?" his voice was calm, quiet, but his eyes flashed fire.

"Not implying," I said with a sad smile. "Welcome to the household."

Shock bloomed across his face. He walked quickly from the pantry.

"Wait, where are you going!" I followed behind him as he purposefully walked through the halls and reached Russia's office. I pulled on his arm.

"I really wouldn't if I were you," I said.

"I need to correct him," he said, pushing me away. He entered the room without knocking. I stood at the door, listening to the murmurs as they slowly grew more heated. There was a crash. Soon Russia's laugh reverberated through the cracks. Afghanistan flung the door open and slammed it behind him, looking disheveled and eyes wide. He saw me, straightened his shirt and his cap, then nodded at me.

"It seems I have been fooled," he said with his quiet, calm voice. "Thank you for your honesty."

He walked off down the hallway.

"I'm sorry!" I called after him. He did not pause in his retreat.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

I found after a few weeks back at Russia's that I had a shadow. Afghanistan watched me perform my chores; helping Estonia, Azerbaijan and Armenia in the kitchen each morning, joining in the vacuuming, sweeping, moping and laundry with Latvia, Kirghiz and Uzbek, a small lunch, then raking and hoeing and tending the gardens with Kazakh, Turkmen and Tajik. I took a small break in the afternoon, hiding away in the music room to read or maybe play a bit on the piano. Then off to the kitchens again to help set up the table with Estonia and Latvia, and cleanup afterwards with Azerbaijan, Armenia, Estonia and Latvia.

Afghanistan always stood at a distance. He never got in the way, but never attempted to hide, either. He puffed away at long, thin cigarettes as he watched, pinching them out with two delicate fingers and placing the butt in his pockets.

"You do a lot around here," he said to me one day as I raked the fall leaves from the garden path. I looked up, startled.

"Oh! Well, it's the least I can do," I said, smiling at him. "Almost everyone here has a task assigned to them. I had one as well, but thankfully I don't have to do it anymore."

"And what was that?" He asked as he lit a cigarette.

"Ah. I used to be Russia's manservant."

His eyebrows shot up.

"Yes, I know," I chuckled. "Pretty terrifying, right? But they rescued me from the task. Everyone. They…saved me. And so, to thank them, I help them out where I can."

He went silent. I continued raking for a bit.

"What about the women?" he broke the silence.

"The women? Oh, you mean the sisters? Chechnya?" I leaned against my rake. "Well, the sisters are exempt. Being Russia's relatives has its small advantages! And Chechnya…" I grinned at him. "Chechnya has never done chores. It's just not in her nature, I guess. And Russia doesn't really have the patience to fight her over it!"

I zoned out a moment, thinking of Chechnya's battles with Russia.

"He has tried so many times to break her," I said quietly. "And it never, never lasts."

Again there was a small silence.

"So you like this Chechnya?" Afghanistan said, blowing smoke, face cool but not unkind.

"Well, not like THAT," I said, raking quickly. "I've known her a long time, that's all. I admire her strength. And I like her company. Such a spitfire!"

"Hmmm." He smiled slightly. "And what about the quiet woman? The one Russia dotes on?"

I was quiet for many minutes, thinking as I raked.

"Georgia," I said finally. "Georgia has her own duties."

"Really?" he finished off his cigarette and stashed the butt away. "I only see her at dinner, and even then she never speaks. Simply fawns over Russia. So, are her duties more…carnal? To think, a country keeping another as a live-in prosti –"

"Take that back," I growled. I looked up at him sharply, narrowing my eyes. "It isn't like that. And even if it was…" I rubbed the chain at my neck. Afghanistan watched this with calm curiosity. I let the chain go, snorted, then jerked the rake back and forth. "You don't know everything about this household yet. But know this: you do not insult Georgia. She is a prisoner, just like the rest of us."

"I was merely asking a question," he said, smiling his slight smile. "Though it is funny. Everyone I've asked about Georgia has the same reaction. As if she is some sort of martyr."

"Perhaps she is. Why are you asking me questions if you already have the answers?" I grumbled.

"Because you intrigue me." He walked around me, as if sizing me up. "You say you owe your life to these people, yet they talk about you as if you're their leader. But you do more menial labor than any of them. Still, you were the only one upfront about Russia's intentions. And when I asked about Georgia –"

He fingered my chain, pulling the medallion free from my shirt. I jumped back, whisking the chain from his hand.

"Don't do that!" I cried. "And I said before, I don't think I'm a leader. There were some past – problems, and maybe I prompted some – but I'm no one's leader!"

Afghanistan crossed his arms and smiled.

"Forgive me for being so presumptuous," he said. "But are you the one that asked the others to track Georgia's whereabouts?"

"Well – well I…"

"Yes, not at all like a command." He pulled out a flat, tin case, popped it open and removed another cigarette. "They keep dashing about, checking rooms on the sly. It is quite amusing. They always check one door in particular, and are always discouraged to find it locked. Though I wonder why. The room is empty."

My jaw dropped. The rake slipped from my fingers.

"What did you say?"

"It's empty." He lit his cigarette, puffed on it, blew out smoke. "I took the liberty to pick the lock. Why a barren room is so important to your search is beyond me. Now excuse me, I think I might look for Chechnya. You are right, she is quite spirited. I enjoy her little rants."

He smiled again, turned, and walked off with a wave.

When he turned the corner of the garden path, I ran off to the Mansion. Through the back entry, through the kitchen, the dining room, through the sitting room to the foyer, up the stairs, down the hall, to Georgia's parlor. I hesitated a moment at the door, then grabbed the knob, turned, and let the door swing open.

There was no parlor. Simply a lonely room, no carpeting, nothing on the walls, no shelves or furniture. I stepped inside. It was impeccably clean, which darkened my mood even further; the windows washed and shining, the floor scrubbed. Not a speck of dust in sight. There was something in the middle of the floor. I walked towards it and crouched down. It was the fairy tale book printed in Lithuanian. I picked it up, flipped through the pages. Words popped out at me: _and she pricked her finger on the spindle, and fell into a deep sleep._

"Sleeping Beauty," I murmured. I stood and left the room, anger heaving inside me, bouncing off the insanity and settling next to the joy. "Where has he hidden you, Georgia?"

* * *

><p>The news was a blow to the household. They all gathered in the kitchen, arguing with each other.<p>

"But…but I've followed them after dinner," Chechnya said. "Russia leads her back to the parlor every night!"

"I swear I've heard music from under the door," Uzbek said. "And sometimes there is light."

"Are you sure it was the same room," Estonia said, touching my shoulder. "Are you positive?"

"Of course it was the same room," I said crossly. "You think I don't know what room it is after four decades?"

"But – well what do we do now?" Latvia said, falling heavily into a chair. "We've searched the house high and low!"

"And you're sure she just isn't hidden away in Russia's rooms?" I said to Azerbaijan. He shook his head.

"I haven't seen any signs of her there."

"This is not right," Tajik muttered. He glanced at my medallion. "It is like those necklaces."

"Yes," Kazakh answered. "Something dark is afoot. Something evil."

"Well, what are we going to do?" Turkmen said. "We can't keep searching for a phantom!"

"So we will just give up, then?" Armenia snorted. "Quitter!"

"Give up what? There's nothing to find!" Turkmen sputtered.

The household began talking at once. I held up a hand. They went still.

"No one is giving up," I said. "What was the original goal when you all began treating me so kindly?"

They looked between each other, some guiltily.

"Stop that," I snapped. "I know your motives weren't exactly pure. You wanted to hurt Russia, right? You wanted to break him!"

There were a few nods.

"Right. Well, the only way to get Georgia back is to break Russia." I paced the floor. "I've seen it before. I was still very much wrapped up in his madness, but I remember what it was like. He sort of snapped out of it, if you will. Out of the insanity. He was quite lucid. Even had an idea of how awful he's been." I stopped and looked around the group. "Of course, the last time he came to, he had dragged Estonia and Latvia to Siberia."

The Baltics glanced at each other. I held up my hands.

"We don't want anyone going to the gulags," I said. "But we need to replicate that kind of decision without hurting anyone but Russia."

"But, how do we do that?" Chechnya said, leaning against the table.

"I have an idea." Afghanistan, watching from across the room the whole time, detached himself from the wall and sauntered over to us. "You'll have to be willing to do some…unsavory things, however."

I glanced around the household. Faces were set. Determined. I turned to Afghanistan and held out a hand.

"Tell us what we should do," I said. He smiled his small smiled and clasped my hand in return. Then he turned to the table, dumped a canister of flour on it, and began writing in it.

"Read these things a few times, then wipe this table down," he said. "I will share a little at a time."

We poured over the plans. Some gasped. Others nodded, grim.

"Well," I said. "We will do what we have to do."


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

It was a lazy afternoon in winter, some time after our meeting. Everyone went about their chores, speaking little to each other, sweeping and clearing the walks of snow and washing dishes like any other day. I was outside, helping with the shoveling. I stopped to mop my brow when a great explosion blew out every window on the north side of the building. I hit my eyes from the flying glass, dropped my shovel and ran towards the building.

It was chaos within. Glass and shards of wood were strewn about the hallways. Rooms on the north side of the building were charred, insulation peaking through the walls. The household gathered around the mess, all talking at once. Ukraine was sobbing, the Stans were all shouting. "Who did this? Who?" Azerbaijan yelled, holding Armenia close.

Russia was in the middle of the group, his hands up, trying to gain control.

"Keep calm! Calm, everyone!" Slowly the household quieted down. Russia pulled a hand through his hair, his mad eyes shining and troubled. "I am not sure who would do such a thing," he murmured. "Perhaps America, but it seems unlikely. Do not worry. I will have the boss search for more explosives. For now, everyone go to their own quarters, and stay calm."

Russia stalked off, shaking his head, worried. We watched him go, then looked at each other.

"Damn, he wasn't touched," Chechnya said, voice low.

"I suppose he wasn't in his office when it hit," Tajik said. "What a waste."

"Not a waste," Afghanistan said calmly. "Did you see? He is obviously concerned. Shall we move to phase two?"

He looked at me. I nodded.

"Phase two," I said. "We missed him with the bombs, but we'll knock him clear of his madness yet. But remember: be careful! No one goes to the prisons!"

The household nodded, and we went our separate ways.

* * *

><p>The north side of the building was chorded off for repairs. Bomb patrols found no other explosives, for there were no others set. It took quite a while to come up with the supplies we needed for the first attack, steadily stealing stores from the labs in the basement. Now we worked to disable Russia in other ways.<p>

Phase two was simple; keep Russia on edge. For instance, a walk down the hall may trigger an old hanging lamp to snap at the base and plummet to the ground. Perhaps the stone steps to the front door were more slick than usual, causing a nasty fall. Perhaps the meat in certain servings of dinner was not quite fresh, leading to upset tummies. A falling brick, a wall with a few nails sticking out of it, shower water that went hot and cold.

At first Russia shrugged off the assaults, chalking them up to bad luck.

"Another broken chair," he said after his seat collapsed beneath him at dinner, to surprised cries of the household. "A black cat must have crossed my path recently! Ah, well."

But slowly, I could feel the madness in my mind edge with suspicion and paranoia, a dangerous combination. He started to mutter to himself as he walked the hallways, glancing around, twitching at the smallest sound. He began checking up on the household as they did their chores, random inspections of duties and rooms. His hands shook at dinner as he ate, though his face remained calm, and always smiling. Still, he seemed no closer to being clear of his madness.

"Perhaps we are going too far," Latvia said one day as we cleaned the music room. "He is most certainly worse, not better."

"I'm not sure," I said, scrubbing at a scuff on the floor. "When he came to in the past, he usually did something completely insane. Maybe we aren't going far enough."

Latvia sighed.

"I don't know. Maybe." He furrowed his brow as he dusted the piano. "I know this sounds crazy, but I almost feel sorry for him."

His typically kind face darkened a moment.

"Almost," he muttered.

I mulled over Latvia's opinions for months while overseeing Russia's "accidents." Was he right? Were we going too far? Russia suffered injury after injury, all untraceable to the household, all appearing to be the simplest misfortunes. But he did not break. His madness grew, his hurt, his anger, his paranoia, but he did not break. Still, I thought that it was only a matter of time before his insanity cracked. And so I pushed for more. More trips, more upsets, more pain. Even as the ache lashed against my little anchor of joy, I pushed for more.

"Are you sure you can continue this?" Estonia said to me one day in the kitchens as the household met to go over new plans. "You're white as a ghost!"

"It isn't me," I muttered, leaning against the table, hand on my chest. "This is all Russia. He knows something is wrong, but hasn't quite figured it out."

"Well, maybe if we stop for a while," Azerbaijan said, hand on my shoulder. "Let it go, get your strength back."

"I wouldn't recommend it," Afghanistan said quietly. "If Lithuania gains his strength, it means Russia is recovering. And if Russia is recovering, then we will have to start from the beginning."

"Just because we want to ruin Russia doesn't mean we need to sacrifice Lithuania," Chechnya snapped. She took my hand. "We can stop any time. We can figure out some other way to get at him!"

I grimaced and took a deep breath.

"No," I said, smiling wanely. "He hasn't crumbled yet, but if I feel this bad that means Russia must be near his limit. We press on."

And we pressed on. And on. And on. And like children throwing stones at a mountain, we made the smallest nicks in his madness.

Years into our plan, the nightmares began. Crazed dreams in which I was chased by phantom assaulters. Dreams in which I was sinking into a stinking mire and could not escape. Dreams where my very soul was eaten by carrion birds while I screamed, chained to stone that was my madness. I woke up in a sweat from these night terrors, gasping for breath and holding my head. Were these Russia's dreams? Or was Russia's pain cracking my own sanity?

One night I gasped awake, shuddering, and felt a presence in my room. I glanced at my door to find a short-statured woman with long curls staring at me and my door wide open.

"G-georgia?" I whispered. She cocked her head at me and beckoned me with a finger, then turned and left. I threw off my blankets, wiggled into my pants and ran after her. The hall was dark, and it took me a moment to see her in the blackness of the night. She was some ways ahead of me. I sprinted toward her, careful to soften my footfall.

"Georgia! My god, where have you been?" I hissed when I caught up to her. "We have all wondered!"

She did not answer, merely kept on her path until she reached her parlor door.

"It's been emptied," I murmured. "If you want to meet there, I mean."

She looked up at me, raised an eyebrow and opened the door. I gasped. Her parlor was there, all in order, as it had always been; bookshelf, piano, couches, pillows, rugs, carpet.

"Wh –what –"

She took my hand and led me in, closing the door gently behind me. I walked around the room, brushing the couches with a hand, unsure if I was still dreaming. I glanced at the couch nearest the radio. Russia lay on the couch, covered in his greatcoat, tossing and turning. His eyes were scrunched as if in pain.

"He doesn't like to sleep in his own rooms anymore," Georgia said, catching where I was looking. "The nightmares are too much for him."

She looked up at me, a cool look.

"I know why you are doing what you are doing," she said. "But it is a cruel path, Lithuania."

I opened my mouth to speak, then snapped it shut, frowning.

"Don't look at me like that," she said, sitting in a chair by the great windows. "I speak the truth."

"Russia is a cruel man," I said, hovering over her, fists clenched. "He has hurt everyone in this house. Some more than others. Why can't I fight fire with fire? You of all people –"

"I of all people feel the effects of this terror campaign," she snapped, her eyes narrowing. "Did you think of that when you began? Or did you see the pain as a noble sacrifice for you, and nothing worrisome for me as I was firmly in Russia's clutches once more?"

She gazed at Russia as he tossed and turned.

"Cruelty begets cruelty begets cruelty," she said, voice low. "I had hoped with you to break him with love. And it almost worked. You could have finished my plan, Lithuania. But instead…"

She placed a hand on her chest and looked up at me once more, eyes lidded with disappointment.

"I did not realize you were capable of such hate."

I looked down at my feet, unsure of what to say, my anger and my doubt raging against each other.

"Go," she said, waving me away.

"But –"

"I have no desire to talk to you," she said, shaking her head. "Go."

I was still a moment, then slunk from the room, closing the door behind me. I shook in the hallway, my emotions raging with Russia's. I swung around and pushed the door open.

"Wait!" I cried. I let go of the door. It drifted from my hand, banging against the wall. The room was dark. Empty. The light of the moon streamed through the windows, leaving its mark on the blank walls.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

I did not tell the others of my meeting with Georgia. I was too far gone, unsure of where Russia's insanity ended and my sanity began. I shivered, wondering if it was all a dream. How could the room be there and not there? Why would Georgia be mad at me? Was I not trying to liberate her? Was I not doing my best?

I pressed on. At this point, we had broken into smaller factions for more flexibility and quicker planning. I did not always know when another hit would come. Sometimes my only warning to keep from such and such room for my own safety would be a quick note dropped to me as I went about my chores. Once while tidying Russia's office (long since repaired at this point) I accidently tripped a wire that sent row after row of books toppling from the bookshelf. I dodged away just in time, breathing heavily and cursing.

"I'll have to let them know to be more careful about warnings," I muttered crossly as I stacked the books. It took some time to sort through them and shelve them in the proper order. By the time I was finished it was almost time to help for dinner. I glanced at the clock, cursing again, and opened the door.

Russia tumbled into the room, as if he had been sitting with his side against the door. I jumped back, surprised.

"Oh! Sir, are you okay?"

He didn't answer, simply groaned and rolled to his back. He held on to his thigh, which was covered by his greatcoat. I kneeled next to him and gently moved his hand away, then peeled away his coat. The side of his thigh was covered in blood. It soaked through his trousers, staining them a deep red. I sucked in a breath.

"How did this happen?"

Russia laughed weakly.

"An unlucky day," he deadpanned. "Like every day. I tripped on some small thing and fell into a window."

I crawled to his head, hooked my arms through his and dragged him into the office. I looked around the hallway and closed the door behind him.

"I need to call a doctor," I said, running to the desk and picking up the phone.

"No, please!" Russia cried from the floor. "You cannot! The bosses…they will get suspicious. People will be hurt."

I slowly placed the phone back on the cradle.

"What do you mean, people will be hurt?" I walked around the desk and kneeled again by his head.

"The people. The household," Russia said, gasping. "It will be bad, Lithuania. So very bad. They will comb through every person until they find out who it is who does these things to me. It will be everyone, Lithuania. Everyone will hurt, not just the bad ones."

He closed his eyes. I held my breath for a moment, then let it out slowly.

"You think someone is trying to hurt you?"

Again Russia laughed weakly.

"No. Someone IS hurting me." He winced and groaned again. "Lithuania. Please. Help."

I ran my hand through my hair.

"Just a moment." I jumped to the desk and rifled through it, pulling out a pair of scissors, a bottle of vodka and an old box of tissues. I ran back to Russia and starting from the hem of his pant leg cut until I reached the injury. It was a deep cut, but not very wide and the blood was not flowing too heavily. I poured the vodka over the tissues and dabbed gently at the wound. Russia hissed and went still, scrunching up his eyes until I cleared away the blood. I balled up some of the tissue and pressed it against the wound with one hand and taking Russia's hand with the other. I glanced quickly at the hand.

"Sir, you are burning," I said, surprised. "Feverish!"

"Am I still?" Russia said weakly. "Georgia says the same, every day."

I narrowed my eyes and placed his hand on the tissue ball.

"Hold this," I said. "I will be back."

I ran from the office and toward his room, stopping at a linen closet to steal a flat sheet. Once in his room, I pulled open the wardrobe door and stole a pair of pants from its hanger. With my cloth goods I sprinted back to the office. I kneeled at Russia again, cutting long strips from the sheet. I gently moved away Russia's hand, and firmly wrapped the strips around the gash.

"You'll have to check it every day," I said. "Really, it should be stitched. But we heal pretty fast, right? It will probably be okay."

"Yes," said Russia, pulling himself up to a sitting position. He rubbed his shining eyes and absently patted me on the shoulder with a hot hand. "Thank you, my dear friend."

"Um." My heart sunk. Russia looked at me quizzically. I cleared my throat.

"I brought pants," I said.

He nodded. I stood and helped him off the floor. He hobbled to his desk chair and eased into it. I held on to his wrist, pushing up the sleeve on his greatcoat.

"My god, sir, your arm!" I cried. "You are so thin!"

"Am I?" Russia said, pulling away. "Well. That happens, I suppose."

I picked up the pants and placed them on the desk.

"What is going on, sir?" I asked.

Russia shrugged, closing his eyes and wincing.

"Something is changing," he murmured. "I do not like change. It never helps."

I was scolded by Estonia for arriving late for dinner preparations. I let him scold, pondering Russia's fever and his weight loss.

_That isn't our doing,_ I thought. _What is going on?_

At dinner, Russia limped in to the dining room, never saying a word about his injury. Face as calm as ever. Still unbroken, if thoroughly battered. The ache filled me, and I shook my head to be clear of it.

_He still stands strong. And he knew all along that it was someone in the household. I was wrong,_ I thought. _Oh, I was wrong. We went about things in exactly the wrong way. What do I do now?_


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

"We have to stop our campaign," I said, arms crossed, shivering. The household was gathered in the Stans' sitting room, lounging on chairs, leaned up on the wall, all staring at me.

"Wait, just give up now?" Uzbek said. "But, we've been at it for a long time! We can't just quit now!"

"Is it too hard for you?" Chechnya asked, shooting Uzbek a nasty look.

"No, that's not it," I said. There were some skeptical glances between the household. I can imagine why they were reluctant to believe me. I was pale, sweating, shaking, and sleep deprived. My eyes glittered, though the shimmer was different from Russia's mad shine. It was my own sanity cracking at the edges, fighting Russia's paranoia and fighting my own guilt and doubt.

"I tell you the truth," I said, voice low. "If I thought this course of action was doing any good, I'd say keep it up whether I break or not. But it isn't working. Russia has reached a peak, and I don't think he will ever topple. Besides," I frowned and held my head. "He has already guessed that someone in the household is at fault for his many "accidents." It's just a matter of time before he smokes us out."

There was a murmur in the group.

"If he knows it's one of us, why hasn't he sent us all to the gulags and washed his hands of us?" Kazakh asked, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "That makes no sense."

My brows went up.

"What do you mean? It makes perfect sense," I said.

"Not from my recollection," Tajik snorted.

"Then you're memory is flawed," I snapped. "Russia is many, many things, but if you've been paying attention over the last fifty odd years, you would have noticed that Russia is, in his own crazed mind, quite fair."

I glanced to Estonia, Latvia and Chechnya.

"Have you ever seen him punish someone that he felt did not deserve it? Acted against someone who did not at least defy his rules, no matter how constraining those rules may be?"

"Well yes, but…he takes things too far!...what are you, defending the lout?"  
>They all spoke at once.<p>

"I'm not defending him, or saying that his punishments aren't over-the-top," I said, holding up a hand. "But the point is he won't touch any of us until he's sure of who is at fault. He has even kept the attacks secret from his bosses so that they don't order him to, well, send us all to the gulags and be done with it."

My face darkened.

"However, he is seeking out the perpetrators. And it is only a matter of time until he discovers we are all at fault. And then we are lost."

"Then what do you propose we do now?" Armenia said, taking hold of Azerbaijan.

I brushed my medallion with my fingers.

"Georgia once said she tried to break Russia with love," I said. "And that she almost succeeded. Maybe if we try a different path…"

I was dizzy for a moment, swaying on my feet. Latvia pulled me straight. I sighed and shook my head.

"I need to think on it a while," I said. "Be patient. I will think of something. For now though, stop the attacks."

The group was silent for a moment. Afghanistan moved forward.

"Very well. We will stop the attacks," he said. He looked around the group, his nod mirrored by their nods. "But you need to rest. You are dead on your feet, my friend. Go, sleep. We can discuss what comes next at another time."

I looked up at Afghanistan. Another wave of vertigo hit me. I sighed and nodded.

"All right," I said as he led me to the door. "Just a little rest. I promise, I will think of something."

"That's right." He smiled his small smile, opened the door and gently pushed me out of it. "Now go rest."

The door closed behind me. It took but a moment for me to realize that I had been shut out of any future planning.

* * *

><p>The "accidents" ceased immediately after the household meeting. I was relieved but wary. Though they took my advice about our campaign, I knew that they were plotting something behind my back. I could hear their whispered conversations, feel when a room went quiet as I entered it, see the flickers of hidden looks.<p>

Or was it simply the paranoia fueling false visions and observations? I could not tell, with Russia's madness pressing against my own sanity. And even with the drop off of the attacks, Russia was no better in constitution. In fact, the madness increased, rubbing at my anchor, sending me nightmares and cold sweats and brief fevers. Wave after wave of anger and fear and doubt and worry crashed against me, and it was difficult to stand let alone go through the motions of my chores each day.

"This is more than just our attacks," I muttered one night after yet another nightmare. "What is happening to him?"

I was afraid to ask, lest I spur his suspicion. Still, Russia did not appear much worse for wear. Whatever was going on within him, his outward appearance was just as strong, just as madly aloof. And without the accidents troubling him, the twitching and muttering lessened quite a bit. If not for the swirl of emotions within me, I would not have known that he was in trouble. This made me worry about the household even more. How could they know that Russia was still unstable? What if they did something unforgivable and Russia snapped in the wrong direction?

I was annoyed by their light talk, the meaningless conversations they had in my earshot, the way they never asked me if I was still mulling over what to do about Russia. Every bit of small talk and prattle was more evidence that they were planning something and they wanted me on the outside.

And one day, there was no conversation. All was silent between the household. No one spoke to me in the kitchens, in the gardens, in the halls. Was I going mad? Was there something planned? I couldn't take it anymore. Right before dinner, I grabbed Latvia as he passed me in the hall and pulled him to my room, locking the door behind me.

"What is going on?" I said angrily, pushing him on my bed.

"What? L-lithuania, I-I don't know what you mean," he stuttered. "Are you doing okay? You look like you haven't slept in days –"

"That's not important!" I snapped. I started pacing the floor. "All of you are plotting. Plotting without me. I can see it, the looks, the way you shut me out."

I stopped pacing and pushed my face into Latvia's.

"Tell me now," I said darkly. "Or I will –"

I paused.

"W-what will you do?" Latvia asked, shaking.

I glowered at him, then pushed off the bed and threw up my hands.

"Nothing!" I snapped. "I will do nothing! What can I do?"

I dropped on my chair and covered my eyes. Latvia touched my shoulder.

"L-lithuania, are you still there?" He whispered.

I moved my hands up into my hair.

"What do you mean, am I still here?" I said, annoyed and confused. I laughed coolly. "You mean have I been swallowed by Russia again? I wish! That was much better than this wrenching agony that's tearing inside me now."

Latvia looked relieved.

"I wondered," he said, voice small. "I didn't think…but Afghanistan seemed to sure, and –"

"Afghanistan?" I sat up straight. "What does he have to do with anything? I never saw what I was like before."

"Yes, but he gave a very convincing argument," Latvia continued, voice still small. "Everyone but Chechnya thought maybe he was right, and even Chechnya went along with the plan, though it was less about you and more about –"

Latvia's eyes went wide. I took him by the shoulders and shook him.

"What plan, Latvia!" I cried. "Tell me! Tell me now!"

"Stop! Stop!" Latvia said, pushing away from me and hunkering against the wall. "I'll tell you! It doesn't matter anymore, anyway. You'll see in a few minutes."

"Tell me!"

Latvia huddled on the bed, looking a little lost.

"It was all Afghanistan's idea," he said. "Take out what Russia loves, that's what he said. At first he thought about maybe hurting you –"

I breathed in a sharp breath.

"But that was vetoed by everyone else. So we went for the next best thing: hurt Georgia's parlor."

My eyes went wide. I stood quickly.

"It's just an empty room, so we thought it would be fine," Latvia said. "It still seems to have a hold over Russia, since he disappears there every night. Gather together the explosive material, just like last time. And then during dinner, when everyone is well away..."

"You're all crazy!" I said, panicked, backing towards my door. "Mad! You have no idea – oh, my god, Georgia!"

I threw open my door and ran down the hall. Latvia popped out after me.

"But – but it's just an empty room!" He cried.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

I burst through the door to Georgia's parlor, gasping for breath. Afghanistan looked up from a wired explosive he was mounting on the wall across from the windows.

"Ah, I thought someone would break," he said mildly. "I was hoping I'd have a little more time, though. Still, it's a little too late now."

He pressed a few buttons, and a countdown began on the red digital clock.

"Fifteen minutes is plenty of time to escape," he said, walking towards the door. I blocked his path.

"You need to stop the countdown," I said frantically, pushing him back. "Now!"

Afghanistan lifted an eyebrow.

"I don't think so," he said. "Unlike you, I want to see this plan out to the end."

"You don't understand what you're doing!" I cried, throwing up my hands. "Georgia is here in this room, right now!"

As I spoke, members of the household poured into the room, all chattering at once.

"There, you see!" Latvia said, pointing at me. "He just ran off down here like a madman!"

"And you had to tell the whole household?" Afghanistan said, pointing at the explosive. "This isn't exactly the time for an intervention."

Latvia blushed.

"W-well, most of them insisted –"

"Afghan's right," Turkmen broke in. "Get the crazy out of here, this place is gonna blow!"

Uzbek and Tajik took my arms, trying to pull me to the door. I struggled with them.

"No! Wait!" I screamed. "You don't understand! Georgia! You'll hurt Georgia!"

"Hmmm. What did I tell you?" Afghanistan said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "He's completely delusional. He just told me that Georgia is right here, in this empty, sterile room."

"I am so sorry, my brother," Estonia said. He grabbed one of my kicking legs. Azerbaijan grabbed the other. The four men picked me up as I shimmied and wiggled.

"You must believe me!" I cried. "You have to stop this! No!"

"What is going on here?"

The men stopped in their tracks. Russia stood at the door, towering over the household. Bela peeked out behind him, scowling at us.

"Let him go," Russia said, pointing to me, voice calm, smiling. "Now."

The men let me slip to the floor. I picked myself up, rubbing at my arms. Russia scanned the room, spying the explosive.

"That is not right," he murmured. He pushed his way through the crowd, brushed a hand over the explosive, rubbed his chin and furrowed his brow. Then, with his large fingers, he deftly pressed a button while pulling out one of the wires. The numbers stopped counting down and blinked out.

"There we are," he said, beaming at the group. He slapped Afghanistan on the back. "Not so difficult! Now. I came to fetch Georgia for dinner, and everyone is here, waiting for me."

He paced slowly around the group, smiling benignly at each person, his mad eyes shining.

"And not only is everyone here, there seems to be a bomb set. In one of my most favorite rooms! Very suspicious."

He stopped in front of the trembling, furious, insolent group. I could feel his anger, his hurt. I winced and clenched my teeth.

"So. Was everyone aware of this?" he pointed at the explosive. "Was everyone here to do injury to me?"

His anger grew, hot and heavy in my chest. I knew what was coming.

"Everyone it against me," he said, his smile growing more crazed. "Everyone hates me. It is always the same, da? Always the same."

He backed up from the group, rocked on his heels.

"For your crimes against my home, you will all be –"

"No!" I cried, pushing people aside until I was at the front of the group. People murmured. "Don't send them away! No one else was involved! It was all me."

There were gasps from the group. Russia was shocked, brows up, mouth a small o.

"When – when you saw them around me, they were taking me away," I babbled. "They caught me, you see, and were taking me to you."

Russia furrowed his brows and leaned over me, staring into my eyes. He stared for a moment, then blinked and smiled.

"You are lying," he said. "To protect the others."

I closed my eyes and sighed.

"Maybe about that," I muttered. "But not completely."

I opened my eyes and stared at him again, standing firm. He cocked his head at me, squinting. His eyes grew wide. He stepped back.

"My bad luck days," he said, voice low. A wave of pain, heartache, washed over me. "You. You –why?"

"Because I thought I had to," I said, voice cracking. "And because…because I love you, Russia."

I whipped my head at the group, defiant.

"I do!" I cried. "And it has nothing to do with this THING around my neck!" I hit my chest, jarring the medallion.

"But THIS!" I said, flinging my arm in Russia's direction. "THIS I do not love! This mad creature who plays with us like a boy with his tin soldiers! Oh, I hate this thing! This monster!"

I laughed as Russia's pain swallowed my joy for a moment. The household was aghast. Russia stumbled back, catching himself against the wall.

"Yes, feel hurt! Feel bad for what you let yourself become!" I snapped. "Look at what you've done! How many people have you harmed? And you have no bosses to blame! No crazed population! Just your own cracked soul, Russia!"

I paused a second, breathing deeply.

"But I still love you, deep down," I snarled. "Oh, it is deep, but it is there. I love the charming, childish man who promised me protection and who asked his household to dance! I love the man who gushed over Pushkin and told stupid, silly boasts of his accomplishments! I love the pragmatically cruel man who followed his boss's orders and his people's orders, crazed as they both were, yet managed to keep himself together. THAT is the Russia I love! THAT is the Russia I want back!"

A slow flicker of realization dawned on me. I wrapped my fingers around the chain of the medallion.

"Georgia once said I could have brought you back with love," I murmured to the silent audience. "I think I know what she meant, now."

I closed my eyes and fought my way through the tempest of Russia's pain to my core of joy. There I sat, letting the joy build, letting it grow up into a barrier against the pain. Slowly it filled me, or perhaps not so slowly. My perception of time eased as I battled the roil of Russia's emotions. And soon the joy blossomed within me, spreading throughout my body and swallowing Russia's ache. I opened my eyes and smiled. Russia gasped and clutched his chest.

"Lithuania," he sighed.

"Come back, Russia," I said. I jerked my hand, breaking the chain around my neck.

There was a scream. Who screamed? Was it Russia? Me? I do not know. Everything was pain, the wrenching of my heart, like it was being pulled from my chest, carved and sliced and stomped beneath feet. I fell to the ground. Fell to the green, plush carpet.

There was an eruption of noise around me.

"What is going on?...where did the PIANO come from…the piano? As opposed to everything else?...quick, take him!..."

Suddenly I was covered in hands, cooling, grasping, lifting hands. I was carried bodily to a couch and placed gently there. Hands slapped my cheeks gently.

"Water! Tea!" someone cried.

"I have tea," a shaky voice said. "I have it here."

A cup was pressed against my lips and I gulped thirstily at its contents.

"What…is going on?" I croaked. The hands moved away. My vision cleared. My…everything cleared. I felt empty. Clean. I blinked and pushed myself upright on the couch. The household was staring at me, surrounding me, Georgia at the forefront. She smiled, her black eyes sharp, and whipped her hands around me, hugging me tight.

"I knew you could do it," she said. "I knew it!"

"Did you?"

The household turned and looked at Russia, sitting against the wall and clutching his chest, quite forgotten. Slowly he got to his feet, stumbling a little, then righting himself. He brushed down his coat and sighed, then stepped forward. The household moved back.

"Ah. I see," he said with a wane, tired smile. He turned his eyes on me, his clear violet eyes that flickered with life, nothing more nothing less. I breathed in sharply.

"Russia?" I whispered. Georgia pushed off me and approached him. He held up a hand in front of her.

"No," he said. He placed a hand on her head. "Thank you."

He walked past her, the household parting in his wake. He paused and looked at me again, eyes wet.

"And thank you, my dear friend," he said. He turned, shoved his hands in his pockets and tottered away, looking up to keep the tears from falling.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

There were no more dinners. No more chores. The household kept things up for a few days after Russia and Georgia's return, but Russia did not eat with us and did not care about the upkeep of the house. And so, we were idle. We played cards in the music room, watched TV in the Stans' sitting room, some sprawled on the stairs or across their beds reading. We wandered the gardens, watching them grow increasingly wild. We ate when we wished, no one person washing up the dishes.

"Look I got a letter," Chechnya said one say, hopping up on my bed. She pulled it free of its envelope, reading hastily. She went pale.

"What? What's wrong?" I asked, rising and putting down my book.

"It's from home," she said, her mouth twitching into a smile. "They want me back. They're petitioning Russia. Oh wow, can you imagine?"

She laughed.

Chechnya wasn't the only one to receive a message. Letters and phone calls trickled, streamed, poured in for each household member. All calling us home, all petitioning Russia, all crying the word "Independence!" But we were hesitant. After being captive so long, how does one take the first step toward freedom?

Afghanistan was the first to go.

"It was strange," he said, waving his thin cigarette over the Official Declaration of Withdrawal. He sat with Georgia and me in Georgia's parlor, smoke curling above his head. "He called me into his office, gave this to me, apologized for 'not keeping his promise' and told me to go."

"That was it?" Georgia asked. "You may go?"

"Well, no. He also told me that his bosses weren't very pleased with my release, though his people welcomed it. What an odd thing to say," he said, putting out his cigarette in a nearby glass ashtray. "Anyway, I've come to bid you adieu. I am sorry that I could not meet you under more friendly conditions. And I am sorry that I never had the chance to know you better, Lady."

He stood, gave a sharp bow and left. Georgia sighed.

"Is it true that he almost blew me to bits?" She asked, stirring her tea.

"In his defense, the room seemed empty." I glanced around at the familiar trappings of the parlor. "How…exactly…?"

Georgia shrugged. She brushed her locket.

"How can I feel what he feels? How could you? I am not going to question the workings of Russia's madness."

"You mean you don't want to know?" I raised my eyebrows, incredulous. Georgia smiled.

"I never said I didn't want to know," she said. "But I will not risk another decent into madness by Russia just to quench my curiosity. Will you?"

I took a deep breath, filling my quiet, calm chest.

"No," I said, looking out the increasingly dusty window. "I will not."

* * *

><p>"They are calling me back."<p>

I sat in Russia's office, fidgeting under his tired gaze. He sighed and smiled.

"My boss will not let you go," he said. He closed his eyes and wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

"My people want independence," I continued. "They want autonomy. And I think they will fight for it if you do not release me."

Russia leaned his elbows against the desk and covered his eyes.

"Yes, I know," he said, shaking his head. "But my boss will not let you go. And if he does not want you to go, then I will have to hold you back."

He moved his hands aside, smiling sadly.

"Please, Lithuania. Please do not make me harm you. Let your people fight, if they must, but do not make me harm you."

He slumped against his desk. I stood quickly and leaned over him.

"Sir – Russia – what's wrong?" I said, moving his damp hair aside. "You're burning up! You're still burning up! How long have you had this fever?"

Russia opened his eyes and blinked.

"I am not sure," he murmured. "If you recall, I was not all there."

He laughed weakly.

"You're very sick," I said, hand on his forehead. "You need to tell your bosses, or – or – "

"They know," Russia said with a slight shrug. "They have known, I think, for some time. But they hide their eyes and plan for a future that will not come."

He placed a hand on mine.

"My dear friend. Do not make me fight."

I sighed.

"For now, Russia," I said, helping back to a sitting position. "For now."

* * *

><p>The calls of the household's people grew stronger, but still we lingered in the slowly dilapidating Mansion. Russia's bosses were firm, his new sanity still fragile. We were caught between the wants of our own kin and the desire to keep both our bodies and our people safe. But the state was crumbling at the edges. Though the television kept broadcasting peace and unity, the message from our people spoke of revolution. The end was creeping ever closer.<p>

One night I was shaken awake by Georgia.

"What – what's going on?" I said, muzzy from sleep.

"I am leaving," she hissed at me, kissing my cheeks. "I must go before Russia wakes up and knows that I've fled."

"What?" I whispered, clasping her hand. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Not at all." She smiled at me. "In fact, I feel clearer than I have in years. But something has come up. I need to go, now, before Russia suspects…"

"What if he follows you?" I said.  
>She shook her head, her eyes softening.<p>

"I don't think that's possible anymore," she said. She kissed my hand. "When this is over, please come visit me when you wish."

She let me go, smiling once more, and then she was gone.

The next morning I made a small breakfast of bread and milk, marveling at the silence of the kitchen. As I ate, the quiet niggled me. I finished quickly, then searched the Mansion for any sign of life.

The household was gathered at the door of Georgia's parlor. Turkmen, Tajik and Kazakh leaned against the walls, chatting lowly with each other. Estonia, Latvia, Uzbek and Kirghiz sat further down the hallway, playing cards. Azerbaijan and Armenia sat beside the door, Armenia playing a string game with Moldova. Ukraine twisted her hands, bickering with Bela.

"Turkmen and Tajik think Georgia's left. Is it true?" Chechnya said, breaking away from where she stood with the Stans, pulling my sleeve as I approached. "Is she gone?"

I nodded, placing a hand on her head and passing her by.

"Why is everyone here?"

Chechnya shrugged, straightening her scarf.

"It started out small. Estonia saw Russia sprint to the parlor this morning. He told Latvia, who told the Stans. They all tried the door. Well, one touch of the handle and Russia immediately told them to go away before they could even get the door open. Armenia passed by, wondered what was going on, and then they told her and she told everyone else and, well…"

She waved a hand at the group.

"We're just waiting to see what happens next."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" I said, confused.

"I suppose we thought you'd know. Oh!" she blushed. "I'm sorry, but it's an old habit now."

I shot her an annoyed look and approached the door. The household looked up, watching me. I made a fist, about to knock, then thought better of it. I held out a hand to the household.

"Wait here."

I entered Georgia's parlor, closing the door behind me.

Russia sat on a couch, facing away from me, shoulders hunched.

"I asked you to please leave me alone," he said quietly.

I walked around the couch. Russia stared at the floor, hands balled into fists on his knees, one crumpling a piece of paper. He looked up as I approached, eyes red and puffy.

"Oh, Lithuania," he said, sniffing and rubbing a sleeve over his face. He smiled a weak smile. "I did not think…my friend, I…"

He held out the paper, smile faltering.

"She's gone."

I sat next to him on the couch.

"I know," I said, taking the paper from him. His snuffled again and cleared his throat.

"I knew she would leave me," he said, shaking his head. "I am not stupid, you know. But I thought I had more time. Time to…to fix things, to say I am sorry for…"

He covered his eyes with his hands, leaning his elbows against his knees.

"I never, never treated her well, did I?" he said, voice cracking. "The boss told me to take her, he did. Take her by force, make her ours. And I did, I…I was glad to. Just like with everyone else, really. Make the bosses happy, maybe the people will be happy. Maybe there will be no more strife, no more fighting, no more unhappiness."

He rubbed his eyes, rubbed his nose, crossed his arms over his chest.

"She was different, though, Lithuania. She was more than just another land to make the bosses happy. Like you." He glanced at me quickly, then looked away. I fought a blush. "I was happy just to see her every day. And I wanted so much for her to be…"

He pressed a hand against his chest.

"But she is not. Even now, I can feel her. I can feel how much I have hurt her."

He shook his head.

"She was right," he said. "Always right. I took, and took, and what do I have for it now? I am surrounded by people who hate me. Even…"

His eyes glazed over. He shuttered. Then he stood quickly and walked to the window.

"Something is not right," he murmured. He gasped and stumbled against the glass.

I jumped from the couch, confused. Suddenly, the couch started to vibrate, along with the furniture and the windows. Everything rattling. The door burst open and the household streamed into the parlor. Everyone was talking at once

"Lithuania, there are tanks surrounding the Mansion!" Latvia cried, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the window. "And more are coming!"

I looked outside. He was right: beyond the gardens, beyond the fences, Russian tanks were lining the streets around the Mansion, rumbling into place. The household chattered nervously. Noses pressed against the glass. One last tank maneuvered into place, and the vibrating stopped. Everyone held their breath in the stillness. But nothing happened. The tanks just stood there, like giant metal omens.

"Are they going to attack?" Estonia whispered.

"How can they not?" Azerbaijan whispered back. "Why else would they be here?"

I looked up at Russia, unsure of what to do. He slowly pushed off from the window and backed away, a delirious smile on his face.

"Ah," he said. "So this is what it feels like to die."

His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell sprawling to the carpet.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

There were a general cry from the household, and a rush to surround Russia.

"Quick, help me pick him up!" I snapped. Uzbek, Kazakh, Estonia and I staggered under Russia's weight, lifting him up to one of the couches.

"Good lord, he's steaming hot!" Kazakh said, waving his arms to cool them.  
>"He is certainly feverish," Estonia said, his hand on Russia's sweating forehead, frowning at me. "How long has he been like this?"<p>

"That's not important now," I said crossly. "Armenia! Azerbaijan! Get me tea, a bowl of ice water and some rags!"

They nodded and ran off.

"Everyone else, get out!" I said. "Give him air! Out, now! And somebody watch those damn tanks!"

The rest of the household cleared out of the parlor, Armenia and Azerbaijan with them when they complied with my request. I pulled Russia's arms from his greatcoat, unbuttoned his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. Then I soaked the rags in the ice water and laid them out on every exposed surface of skin. Russia winced and sighed, moaning. The rags warmed quickly, and it was an effort to keep every rag on his arms, chest and forehead cool at the same time. Soon the water ran out.

"Azerbaijan!"

He sprinted through the door, and I caught a glimpse of the household outside.

"More ice water," I said. "Bring me a new bowl every half hour if you can!"

He nodded and ran off.

I worked steadily for hours to keep Russia cool. Slowly I became aware of a roar of voices outside, but I was too busy to check the windows.

"Lithuania, you should see it!" Latvia said, popping his head through the door. "The crowds of people! And the soldiers, just standing there, waiting!"

I nodded, and closed my eyes, falling against the couch.

"Lithuania! Estonia, help me!"

"I will help, too," Belarus said, barging past Latvia. "Who else can help Big Brother properly?"

Estonia, Latvia and Belarus took over, letting me rest. Azerbaijan and Armenia ran for water, for food. And Russia burned, not stirring, barely breathing.

"Do you think he is really dying?" Latvia whispered when I woke up from my nap and joined him at Russia's side.

"If he is, there is nothing we can do," I muttered, squeezing out a rag and placing it on Russia's chest. "Nothing."

"Shut up!" Bela hissed, trembling. "Both of you!"

For three days it was like this. Three days we worked in shifts, the household drifting in and out, checking on us, giving us news of the contained chaos outside. And Russia slept, on fire, not a flicker from his eyelids or a twitch of his limbs.

On the third day I rested against the edge of the couch, trying to keep my eyes open when a great cry rose from outside. The rumbling began again. Estonia stood quickly and ran to the window.

"What? Are we under attack?" I said shakily.

"No!" Estonia said, breaking into a smile. "The tanks! They are leaving!"

Bela, Latvia and I rushed to the window and watched the tanks retreat down the streets. I grinned and ran back to Russia. I moved the rag on his forehead aside, brushing his skin. The fever had not broken, but it was much, much lower. He was warm to the touch rather than burning. His breathing was deeper as well.

"Russia," I whispered, slapping his cheek gently. "Russia, wake up."

He groaned.

"Lithuania," he croaked.

Bela gasped and turned from the window, running to and leaning over the couch.

"Big Brother!" She cried happily.

I looked at her sharply, placing a finger on my lips. Then I grabbed a cup of cold tea from the coffee table next to me and held it up to his mouth.

"Drink," I said. He did, gulping down every last drop. I fed him two more cups before he sighed and closed his eyes once more, falling into a deep, restful sleep.

I eyed Bela, Latvia and Estonia, lifting myself from the floor.

"That was close," I said. "I don't want to know how close."

Latvia broke into a wide grin and threw open the door.

"He lives!" He cried to the crowd waiting in the hallway. "Russia lives! And we will live on as well!"

* * *

><p>Something shifted. Something changed. The weight that kept the captive countries from leaving Russia for good lifted, and as Russia recovered, the household trickled away. Some visited Russia, who now lay in his bed, wishing him farewell as they departed. Others, like Chechnya, left with no word to her old captor.<p>

"The thing is, I've never been a fan of his," she said as she hugged me goodbye. "He was never very kind to me, was he? So why should I say goodbye?"

My Baltic brothers left together.

"Aren't you coming, Lithuania?" Latvia said, swinging his bag over his shoulder. "Your people were some of the first declaring their independence, weren't they?"

"Yes," I said with a shrug. "But they can wait. I'll be on my way soon."

Estonia snorted.

"I can't believe you'd stay here any longer than you need to," he said with a wave. "You of all people."

The Stans left one by one, making promises to visit and laughing amongst themselves. The lovers never said goodbye. They simply were gone one day. Bela didn't want to leave.

"I love Big Brother SO MUCH!" she said, sniffling into her sleeve. "But my boss insists."

And off she went. Ukraine was another who left without saying a word, taking Moldova by the hand and walking off toward her homeland.

And so they left, every one, until I was alone in the Mansion with Russia.

* * *

><p>Russia sat cross-legged on his bed, setting up a wooden chess board. The fever had finally broken, and his cheeks were pale but ruddy.<p>

"I can't stay much longer," I said, handing him a mug of tea and sitting in a chair near his bed.

"Thank you," he said, taking the mug and setting on his bedside table. He placed the black queen in place and smiled. "There! Go on, you are white today."

I moved my piece and sipped at my own tea.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, yes." He waved a hand at me and moved. I took his pawn and dropped it on the bed. He moved again.

"Go," he said with a smile. "I can manage. I am feeling much better, though I feel very weak. But I think I can make my own tea."

I moved. He caught my knight. He picked up his tea and looked down at his cup, playing with his in his hands.

"Will you…visit me someday?" He said. "Maybe when you are not so angry with me?"

We volleyed back and forth for a few moves, capturing pieces back and forth.

"Who says I'm angry?" I said finally.

He took my bishop.

"Huh. Even though it is all fuzzy, jumbled up back in the mad days, I remember the feeling. Your anger. And anyway," he said, voice wry. "I do not need a magic necklace to know. Oh! Ah, I needed that."

I took his knight and tossed it with the other captive pieces.

"Maybe I am angry," I said mildly. "And if I am, I've been angry for so long that it's hard for me to remember when I wasn't angry. Anger feels normal."

He exchanged his rook and king and looked up at me.

"During the mad times?" he said.

"No, not just during the mad times." I took a pawn. "There were times when you were kind to me, Russia, but there was always a catch." I squeezed my shoulder, where an old scar still cut a white stripe in my skin.

His smile drooped.

"I see. Yes, I remember."

A few more moves in silence. A few more captured pieces.

"My people…my bosses. I cannot promise that they will be any less imperial," he said finally, with a sigh. "They seem concerned with other things right now. But someday I may be forced to return for you…"

"And if you are, I will be waiting," I said. He was down to a bishop and a rook and me my queen and knight. "If you come for me, I will put up a fight."

Russia laughed, running from my queen on the board, inching his king away from the fray. Quickly I took his rook with my knight, positioning my piece near his king.

"Yes, fight," he said, moving his bishop to defend. "Fight away! But I hope…I hope that my people decide not to fight."

He looked at me and smiled.

"I hope they choose not to conquer this time. It is very fretful, being a nation of conquerors."

I smiled back sadly.

"Yes, I've seen." I took his bishop with my queen. Russia sucked in a breath. He mulled over his king, but every move was certain death.

"Stale," he said, flicking over his king. "Ha! You have improved!"

"Maybe I was always good at the game," I said, standing. "I just had to remember how to play."

I held out my hand.

"Goodbye, Russia," I said. "Perhaps I will visit. Someday."

Russia took my hand and pulled me toward him, hugging me close.

"Goodbye, my dear friend," he said, kissing my cheek. "I wish you the best of luck."

He pushed me away.

"Wait, wait, before you go, sit a moment!" I did, sitting quietly next to him on the bed. Then I rose, straightened my shirt and headed for the door. I opened it and paused.

"Good luck to you," I said. He beamed at me. I closed the door gently behind me and leaned against it a moment. I heard a soft sob on the other side of the door. Tears welled in my eyes and I dashed them away with a hand.

"Stupid, stupid," I muttered, stalking down the hallway. "So quick to forget."

My bag was at the front door. There was not much to take. A few shirts. A book of fairy tales. I picked it up, tossed the strap over my shoulder, took a deep breath and headed from the Mansion. Every step I took toward home, my heart grew lighter until I felt it sing. I was free! I was free!


	36. Epilogue

Epilogue

Russia stood on Georgia's beach, looking out to sea. The wind played in his hair. He breathed deep, and sighed.

"Why are you here?"

He looked down. Georgia stood beside him, watching the waves break against the sand. Russia shrugged, leaned down and tapped her locket. She pulled it away from him.

"How can I ignore your call?" he said.

Georgia tsked, rubbing a foot into the sand.

"That is a very casual look," she said, disapprovingly. Russia looked down at his jacket, straightened the buttons on his shirt. He shrugged.

"I am tired of uniforms."

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

Russia laughed.

"Will there be poison involved?"

She shook her head again, irritated, and walked off down the beach.

"Wait!" Russia called after her. He caught up to her, and kept pace with her, hands behind his back, glancing down at her from time to time. She did not speak. Russia coughed.

"Well. I was sent her to…to discuss something, though my boss was vague about what that something was," Russia said finally as they turned from the beach and headed toward Georgia's whitewashed house. "He said I would know when I got here. He seemed a bit irritated at me, though I am not sure why."

"I think I have a guess," Georgia murmured. They crossed the path through the greenery surrounding her house. She paused at the door, hand resting on the knob. "Russia…there is something that you should know –"

The door flew open. Two small, shining faces appeared in front of Georgia, both cross.

"Mama, I don't WANT to be GROUNDED anymore!" one of the faces screamed, a little girl with big, violet eyes and dark curly hair. "I want out RIGHT NOW!"

"I want out, too!" The other child screamed, shaking her sandy blond hair, tears welling in her dark eyes. "I will run away! I will, I will, I will!"

Georgia sighed wearily.

"Girls, be quiet a moment," she said, pushing them aside, and leading Russia to a chair. "We have a guest."

The girls went silent for a moment, staring up at the big man. Russia stared back, bemused. He sat heavily in the chair and glanced between Georgia as she prepared tea and the girls who started rooting around in his jacket for treats.

"I did not know that you had wards now, Georgia," he said. "Aren't you a bit…small for that sort of thing? Oof!"

One of the girls jumped into his lap and pulled at his cheeks. He pulled her away gently, and placed her on the floor. He squinted down at her, smile set on his face.

"You would think," Georgia said, voice flat. She handed Russia a mug of tea. "But that doesn't seem to be the case."

Russia did not reply. He eyed the girls, gently pulled them in front of him, ran his hands through their hair. The blond giggled and stepped back, shaking her head.

"Georgia," he said slowly. Georgia sighed, and smiled wryly at Russia.

"Girls, this is Mr. Russia," she announced. "Russia, these are my daughters." Russia glanced quickly between the girls and Georgia, and placed a hand on his chest, eyes wide. "Yes. Your daughters. Ossetia, Abkhazia, be polite and say hello." She pointed to the girl with curls and the girl with sandy hair respectively. The girls eyed Russia for a moment, then broke into big grins.

"Papa!" They cried, jumping up on him. Ossetia hugged his neck.

"Mama is so very unfair!" she said, scrunching her face at Georgia. "She won't leave us alone or let us be independent or anything! But you're good, aren't you, Papa? You're fair."

Russia said nothing, holding on to Ossetia automatically, mouth open in shock.

"Pa – But – I…I did not know," he said finally. "When..? How...?"

"I think you know how," Georgia said with lidded eyes. "As for when, soon after your Soviet regime fell."

"But—but I –"

"Didn't know, yes." Georgia shrugged. "Your bosses were aware. And frankly, you were so battered and…I didn't know if the insanity would return if…so I simply never told you."

She sipped at her tea. Russia took a deep breath. His cheeks were red.

"So. Is this why I was sent here?" He said, his voice calm. "This is more than unfair, Georgia."

He stood, lifting Ossetia with him. He tried to put her down.

"No!" she screamed. "I don't like it here at mama's house! I want to go with you, papa! Can I go with you?"

"Well, I –"

Georgia slammed her tea on the table.

"No," she said. "You do not know him, father or not. You cannot go with him."

Russia's face went stormy. His eyes flashed, and he hugged Ossetia close.

"Wait a moment. You tell me that I have…I have children, and then you tell me that they cannot see me?"

"You have never given me cause to trust you with children," Georgia said, rising from her chair.

"How would you know what you can trust me with?" Russia cried. "You have not visited me in many years!"

"Many years? You'll need more than 'many years' to gain back my trust!" Georgia snapped. She crossed the room to Russia and took hold of Ossetia, trying to pull her away. Ossetia screeched and held on tightly to Russia's neck. Georgia pulled harder, knocking Russia off balance.

"Stop this!" Russia roared. He pushed Georgia hard. She lost hold of Ossetia and fell to the ground with a thump. Russia took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"I am sorry," he said.

He set Ossetia on his chair and ruffled her hair.

"You cannot come with me," he said mildly. "If you do not like mama's house, maybe you can have your own house some day, da? But you cannot come to mine. I can visit you, though. How would you like that?"

Ossetia beamed up at him.

"You can't just promise her a house!" Georgia said crossly, picking herself up off the floor. "She's just a child, Russia! You know nothing about her, and yet you barge in here –"

"Do you plan to keep them here forever?" Russia said, raising his eyebrows. He searched his pockets, found a few chocolates and handed them to the girls. The girls took the candies and ran off upstairs, bickering about who would get which treat. Russia looked back at Georgia. "There was a time I thought you were unable to care for yourself. And yet, here you are."

"That – that was different!" Georgia sputtered.

"Was it?" Russia looked up and smiled. "Perhaps you are right. I know nothing."

There was a pause in the conversation.

"Can I…come see them sometimes?" Russia said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Two daughters I did not know about! I must –"  
>"I don't know," Georgia said, crossing her arms with a frown. "If you do, they might get ideas."<p>

Russia frowned, fighting back anger.

"I…see," he said, smiling sadly. "But my boss –"

"Yes, and my boss." Georgia sighed and sat on a couch in the corner, covering her eyes with her hands. "Always the bosses. Sometimes I wish so much that I was born a normal person rather than a country. There is so much less heartache, I think. And so much more independence."

Russia hesitated for a moment, then sat down next to her.

"It is less heartache, maybe because they do not live so long," Russia said. "And more independence? Huh. They run around trying to please others, trying to rule, trying to gain power, but what is the use? They all reach the same end. I do not know if it is any better than being bossed around by them, do you?"

Georgia laughed, her eyes still covered.

"That is something I would expect you to say, Russia," she said. "Can't you ever see the good in life?"

"I see good," Russia said, shrugging. "I just do not deny the bad. And I have seen so much bad, Georgia."

He looked down at her and pulled her hands away from her eyes.

"But sometimes, yes, I see good," he said with a smile. "You know, I think I loved you the first time I saw you, running towards me on the beach."

Georgia breathed in sharply.

"If you've come for me again," she said, voice shaking.

"No, nothing like that," Russia said quickly, squeezing her hands and letting them go. "And even if I were, it would not be my choice. Not this time."

They sat in awkward silence for a moment. Then Russia, with a hesitating hand, leaned over her, brushing her hair over an ear. She stiffened, then relaxed, closing her eyes.

"You say there is too much heartache," he murmured. He moved his hand from her hair to her neck, tracing the chain of her locket with a finger. "Why for you, though? You should be happy, Georgia. My sunshine."

Quickly, before Georgia had time to react, he grabbed the locket and twisted the chain around his fist.

"What are you –!" Georgia choked as Russia pulled sharply at the chain. The clasp snapped. Georgia screamed, pressing a hand against her chest, and collapsed into Russia as he flopped over on the couch cringing and gritting his teeth, breathing deeply. The girls came tumbling downstairs.

"Mama! Mama!" they cried, pushing her up and away from Russia. She was dazed for a moment, then shook her head, blinking down at the girls. Russia pushed himself upright on the couch.

"Not so hard this time," he said, voice wobbly. "And I am still all here. That is a good sign!"

Georgia gasped and stood, hand at her chest, marveling at the silence in her mind.

"Why – why did you –"

Russia stood and kissed her, then pushed her gently away.

"If you feel heartache, let it be your own," he said, pocketing the locket. He smiled down at her, a small, sad smile. "I want nothing but happiness for you. No matter what the bosses say, or the people, I want you to be happy. If you will let me, may I visit you?"

Georgia paused, then nodded.

"If my bosses –"

"Yes, and my bosses," Russia said. He sighed and opened the door. "Well, then."

And he was gone, walking off down Georgia's path. Georgia watched him from the doorway, hand at her neck, tears in her eyes. He broke off a sunflower from its stalk as he left and twirled it in his hand as he hummed to himself.

Гори, гори, моя звезда.

Гори звезда приветная!

Ты у меня одна заветная,

Другой не будет никогда.

Gori, gori, moya zvezda,

Gori, zvezda privetnaya!

Ty u menya odna zavetnaya,

Drugoy ne budet nikogda.

Shine, shine, my star

Shine lovely star

You are my only treasured one

Another there will never be


End file.
